SARTOR RESARTUS

:
The Life and Opinions of Herr Teufelsdrockh
By

Thomas Carlyle
A PENN STATE ELECTRONIC CLASSICS SERIES PUBLICATION

Sartor Resartus: The Life and Opinions of Herr Teufelsdrockh by Thomas Carlyle is a publication of the Pennsylvania State University. This Portable Document file is furnished free and without any charge of any kind. Any person using this document file, for any purpose, and in any way does so at his or her own risk. Neither the Pennsylvania State University nor Jim Manis, Faculty Editor, nor anyone associated with the Pennsylvania State University assumes any responsibility for the material contained within the document or for the file as an electronic transmission, in any way. Sartor Resartus: The Life and Opinions of Herr Teufelsdrockh by Thomas Carlyle, the Pennsylvania State University, Electronic Classics Series, Jim Manis, Faculty Editor, Hazleton, PA 182011291 is a Portable Document File produced as part of an ongoing student publication project to bring classical works of literature, in English, to free and easy access of those wishing to make use of them. Cover Design: Jim Manis Copyright © 2001 The Pennsylvania State University

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Thomas Carlyle

BOOK I

SARTOR RESARTUS:
The Life and Opinions of Herr Teufelsdrockh
By

CHAPTER I PRELIMINARY

C

Thomas Carlyle
[1831]

onsidering our present advanced state of culture, and how the Torch of Science has now been brandished and borne about, with more or less effect, for five thousand years and upwards; how, in these times especially, not only the Torch still burns, and perhaps more fiercely than ever, but innumerable Rushlights, and Sulphur-matches, kindled thereat, are also glancing in every direction, so that not the smallest cranny or dog-hole in Nature or Art can remain unilluminated,—it might strike the reflective mind with some surprise that hitherto little or nothing of a fundamental character, whether in the way of Philosophy or History, has been written on the subject of Clothes. Our Theory of Gravitation is as good as perfect: Lagrange, it is well known, has proved that the Planetary System, 3

Sartor Resartus on this scheme, will endure forever; Laplace, still more cunningly, even guesses that it could not have been made on any other scheme. Whereby, at least, our nautical Logbooks can be better kept; and water-transport of all kinds has grown more commodious. Of Geology and Geognosy we know enough: what with the labors of our Werners and Huttons, what with the ardent genius of their disciples, it has come about that now, to many a Royal Society, the Creation of a World is little more mysterious than the cooking of a dumpling; concerning which last, indeed, there have been minds to whom the question, How the apples were got in, presented difficulties. Why mention our disquisitions on the Social Contract, on the Standard of Taste, on the Migrations of the Herring? Then, have we not a Doctrine of Rent, a Theory of Value; Philosophies of Language, of History, of Pottery, of Apparitions, of Intoxicating Liquors? Man’s whole life and environment have been laid open and elucidated; scarcely a fragment or fibre of his Soul, Body, and Possessions, but has been probed, dissected, distilled, desiccated, and scientifically decomposed: our spiritual Faculties, of which it appears there 4 are not a few, have their Stewarts, Cousins, Royer Collards: every cellular, vascular, muscular Tissue glories in its Lawrences, Majendies, Bichats. How, then, comes it, may the reflective mind repeat, that the grand Tissue of all Tissues, the only real Tissue, should have been quite overlooked by Science,—the vestural Tissue, namely, of woollen or other cloth; which Man’s Soul wears as its outmost wrappage and overall; wherein his whole other Tissues are included and screened, his whole Faculties work, his whole Self lives, moves, and has its being? For if, now and then, some straggling broken-winged thinker has cast an owl’s glance into this obscure region, the most have soared over it altogether heedless; regarding Clothes as a property, not an accident, as quite natural and spontaneous, like the leaves of trees, like the plumage of birds. In all speculations they have tacitly figured man as a Clothed Animal; whereas he is by nature a Naked Animal; and only in certain circumstances, by purpose and device, masks himself in Clothes. Shakespeare says, we are creatures that look before and after: the more surprising that we do not look round a

in these revolutionary times. there can nothing defensive be said. but spiked gates and impassable barriers. Let each considerate person have his way. as if they struck into devious courses. they were apt to run goose-hunting into regions of bilberries and crowberries. Nay. “Many shall run to and fro. Germany. Not unfrequently the Germans have been blamed for an unprofitable diligence. learned. struggling multitude here and elsewhere. into rare valleys. indefatigable. emit his Horet ihr Herren und lasset’s Euch sagen. and perhaps much- . as our Humorist expresses it. which. In so far as the Germans are chargeable with such. solemnly. as in so many other cases. and see what it will lead to. with preparatory blast of cow-horn. But here. will unfold itself. deafen every French and every English ear. and see what is passing under our very eyes. “By geometric scale Doth take the size of pots of ale. the German can stand peaceful on his scientific watch-tower.” Surely the plain rule is. and Revolts of Paris. would Criticism erect not only finger-posts and turnpikes. to the raging. which is seen vigorously thrashing mere straw. that while the din and frenzy of Catholic Emancipations. Of that 5 unwise science.Thomas Carlyle little. a blessing that. in any case. For not this man and that man. also many a scene that looks desert and rock-bound from the distance. when visited.” still more. there should be one country where abstract Thought can still take shelter. and. and be swallowed up at last in remote peat-bogs. and Rotten Boroughs. after all. as if. deep-thinking Germany comes to our aid. and knowledge shall be increased. from hour to hour. but all men make up mankind. and their united tasks the task of mankind. How often have we seen some such adventurous. in other words. forsaking the goldmines of finance and that political slaughter of fat oxen whereby a man himself grows fat. Nevertheless be it remarked. It is. tell the Universe. that even a Russian steppe has tumult and gold ornaments. for the mind of man? It is written. which so often forgets that fact. where nothing was to be had but the toil of a rough journey. of that altogether misdirected industry. what o’clock it really is. let them take the consequence.

Stillschweigen und Cognie. is free to confess. have continued dormant for indefinite periods. etc.—thereby. namely. neglected. and look fearlessly towards all the thirty-two points of the compass. Weissnichtwo. of a new Book from Professor Teufelsdrockh of Weissnichtwo. stands here for the first time published in our language. and in a style which. not Philosophy of Clothes. and then. 1831. whether as judicially acceded to. especially pure moral Science. Teufelsdrockh. their Origin and Influence): von Diog. or judicially denied. by quite foreign suggestion. though otherwise boasting himself a man of confirmed speculative habits. The Editor of these sheets. this remarkable Treatise. on our total want of a Philosophy of Clothes. till these last months. and even sequestered condition of the German Learned. in spite of the results it leads to. with its Doctrines. U. this abtruse Inquiry might. did the above very plain considerations. whether understood or not. with all manner of nets. founding new habitable colonies.Sartor Resartus censured wanderer light on some out-lying. and how our mercantile greatness. but recognition even that we have no such Philosophy. yet vitally momentous province. it seems probable enough. treating expressly of this subject. cramps the free flight of Thought. and perhaps discursive enough. or by chance stumbled on it? 6 But for that same unshackled. planting new standards. What English intellect could have chosen such a topic. could not even by the blindest be overlooked. impressing a political or other immediately practical tendency on all English culture and endeavor. Perhaps it is proof of the stunted condition in which pure Science. which permits and induces them to fish in all manner of waters. in the immeasurable circumambient realm of Nothingness and Night! Wise man was he who counselled that Speculation should have free course. By the arrival. In the present Editor’s way of thought. that never. “Die Kleider. languishes among us English. . whithersoever and howsoever it listed. and invaluable Constitution. J.—that this. ihr Werden und Wirken (Clothes. has not remained without effect. the hidden treasures of which he first discovered. occur to him. D. in these his seemingly so aimless rambles. and the conquest was completed. and kept proclaiming till the general eye and effort were directed thither.

a masterpiece of boldness. close-printed.” concludes the well-nigh enthusiastic Reviewer. the historian. what seemed scarcely .” no conquest is important but that of new ideas. Issuing from the hitherto irreproachable Firm of Stillschweigen and Company. farther. “whose seedfield.. almost formless contents.” Mindful of old friendship. it is of such internal quality as to set Neglect at defiance. leading to as yet undescried ulterior results. and return not only with sea-wreck but with true orients. almost on the first deliberate inspection. yet wherein the toughest pearl-diver may dive to his utmost depth. neither calm nor clear. sends hither a Presentation-copy of his Book. then might the arrival of Professor Teufelsdrockh’s Book be marked with chalk in the Editor’s calendar.. was disclosed. but must and will exalt the almost new name of Teufelsdrockh to the first ranks of Philosophy. yet without indicated wish 7 or hope of any kind. close-meditated sort. and rugged independent Germanism and Philanthropy (derber Kerndeutschheit und Menschenliebe). the distinguished Professor. which will not. a very Sea of Thought.Thomas Carlyle “Here. which however does not dazzle him.” in the sublime words of the Poet. be it spoken with pride. perhaps only in Weissnichtwo. and the philosophic thinker.” of boundless. which. in our German Temple of Honor. “comes a Volume of that extensive. “is Time. pass current without opposition in high places.. assuredly. with compliments and encomiums which modesty forbids the present Editor to rehearse. it became apparent that here a quite new Branch of Philosophy. Directly on the first perusal. in this the first blaze of his fame. except what may be implied in the concluding phrase: Mochte es (this remarkable Treatise) auch im Brittischen Boden gedeihen! CHAPTER II EDITORIAL DIFFICULTIES If for a speculative man. A work.” says the Weissnichtwo’sche Anzeiger. lynx-eyed acuteness. It is indeed an “extensive Volume. if you will. with every external furtherance. “interesting alike to the antiquary. is seen only in Germany.

Of both which novelties. and constrained to revolve them.Sartor Resartus less interesting. nay. indeed. the attempt had seemed possible. wheresoever the mystified passenger stands or sits. in the dark depths of his own mind. Tory. or by money or love procure access to. but rather. of Professor Teufelsdrockh the Discloser. as far as might be possible. that. embracing in discrepant union. an almost unexampled personal character. all party-divisions in the State could 8 have been abolished. on the other hand. in any case. was it not to insure both of entire misapprehension? Now for Biography. in such widely circulating Critical Journals as the Editor might stand connected with. there were no adequate documents. namely. to the business and bosoms of our own English Nation? For if new-got gold is said to burn the pockets till it be cast forth into circulation. much more may new truth. . to state the Philosophy of Clothes without the Philosopher. might endanger the circulation of any Journal extant? If. except Fraser’s Magazine? A vehicle all strewed (figuratively speaking) with the maddest Waterloo-Crackers. difficulties occurred. however. was it not clear that such matter as must here be revealed. But as man is emphatically a proselytizing creature. no sooner was such mastery even fairly attempted. and the Philosophy of Clothes poured forth in incessant torrents therefrom. But. be brought home. a special despair. we resolved to master the significance. how could the Philosophy of Clothes. But. shut out from all public utterance of these extraordinary Doctrines. what vehicle of that sort have we. Here. Thus did the Editor see himself. of late years. had it been otherwise admissible. the ideas of Teufelsdrockh without something of his personality. than the new question arose: How might this acquired good be imparted to others. and Radical. perhaps in equal need thereof. in any measure. a quite new human Individuality. and the Author of such Philosophy. and treated of. alas. and inexorably shut! Besides. a vehicle full to overflowing. owing to circumstances. no hope of obtaining such. exploding distractively and destructively. for the while. understood to be. The first thought naturally was to publish Article after Article on this remarkable Volume. not without disquietude. Whig. and all the Journals of the Nation could have been jumbled into one Journal.

with less of satire (at least of open satire) on his. so was it with the Editor’s mind and this offer of Heuschrecke’s. was in several points becoming lucid and lucent. with great circumlocution. and now the Volume on Clothes. than we anticipated. he. Form rose out of void solution and discontinuity. the image of the whole Enterprise had shaped itself. on the deep significance and tendency of his Friend’s Volume. Hofrath Heuschrecke. intimating not obscurely. and then. the National. interviews with that singular man have taken place. with more of assurance on our side. crystallization commences. application to the famed redoubtable Oliver Yorke was now made: an interview. and of him. at length. had it in his power to furnish the requisite Documents. whereby the old disquietude seemed fast settling into fixed discontent. but. and rapidly proceeds till the whole is finished. the personality of its Author more and more surprising.—when altogether unexpectedly arrives a Letter from Herr Hofrath Heuschrecke. that should the present Editor feel disposed to undertake a Biography of Teufelsdrockh. As to those same “patriotic Libraries. like united itself with like in definite arrangement: and soon either in actual vision and possession. to England. or any other of those patriotic Libraries. so to speak. for the rest. but would not crystallize. read and again read. Cautiously yet courageously. The Hofrath.—in conclusion. more and more enigmatic.” might work revolutions in Thought. in spite of all that memory and conjecture could do. or in fixed reasonable hope. with such issue as is now visible. began dilating largely on the “agitation and attention” which the Philosophy of Clothes was exciting in its own German Republic of Letters.” the Hofrath’s counsel could only be . our Professor’s chief friend and associate in Weissnichtwo. after much quite extraneous matter. with whom we had not previously corresponded. that has stood long evaporating. As in some chemical mixture. instantly when the wire or other fixed substance is introduced.Thomas Carlyle So had it lasted for some months. hinted at the practicability of conveying “some knowledge of it. and through England to the distant West:” a work on Professor Teufelsdrockh “were undoubtedly welcome to the Family. 9 and so forth. into a solid mass. at present the glory of British Literature. through the twopenny post.

or if that be impossible. can pervert our judgment. as fair mementos of bygone unions.Sartor Resartus viewed with silent amazement. Heuschrecke or this Philosophy of Clothes. according to ability. or floodgate. which is properly a “Life and Opinions of Herr Teufelsdrockh. Of our fitness for the Enterprise. or sway us to extenuate or exaggerate. we venture to promise. if cunningly planted down. it was partly with a view to such defence that he engaged in this undertaking. that any personal connection of ours with Teufelsdrockh. are those private Compliments themselves. we already see our task begun. and minded to defend these. when. at all hazards. in simplicity of heart. and even insignificant:* it is a voice publishing tidings of the Philosophy of Clothes. of those nights and suppers of the gods. under a feigned name!—O. Let the British reader study and enjoy. to which we have such title and vocation. be it nowise apprehended. and this our Sartor Resartus. it were perhaps uninteresting to say more. 10 On one other point the Editor thinks it needful to give warning: namely. cleared from the mists of prejudice.” hourly advancing. too. For the rest. and with whatever metaphysical acumen and talent for meditation he is possessed of. undoubtedly a Spirit addressing Spirits: whoso hath ears. what is here presented him. but with his offer of Documents we joyfully and almost instantaneously closed. *With us even he still communicates in some sort of mask. Powerless. let him hear. nay. Y. were no despicable pile. though with baser accompaniments. lapped in the symphonies and harmonies of Philosophic Eloquence. and directed rather to the Book itself than to the Editor of the Book. To stem. the present Editor revelled in that feast of reason. or muffler. in the sure expectation of these. we have reason to think. that he is animated with a true though perhaps a feeble attachment to the Institutions of our Ancestors. never since vouchsafed him in so . profitably to divert the current of Innovation. must remain conjectural. in the logical wear. and. Let him strive to keep a free. Thus. Grateful they may well be. as generous illusions of friendship. open sense. such a Volume as Teufelsdrockh’s. above all from the paralysis of cant. Who or what such Editor may be.

as he has here done. For ourselves. into the angry noisy Forum. must write on their door-lintels No cheating here. yet more likely. like Chinese Shopkeepers. with him. though his special contributions to the Isis could never be more than surmised at. was looked for from him. if he published at all. as with the Prince of Lies and Darkness. on his part. In our historical and critical capacity. indeed. Lifting his huge tumbler 11 CHAPTER III REMINISCENCES To the Author’s private circle the appearance of this singular Work on Clothes must have occasioned little less surprise than it has to the rest of the world. at the period of our acquaintance . Teufelsdrockh is our friend. Radicalism. and even English Editors.—save indeed the Devil. strangely enough. Well do we recollect the last words he spoke in our hearing. at least. Professor Teufelsdrockh. Truth is our divinity. nothing Moral. we hope we are strangers to all the world. at all events. meditative Transcendentalism of our Friend we detected any practical tendency whatever. have feud or favor with no one. we do at all times wage internecine war. as indeed some correspondence. with an Argument that cannot but exasperate and divide. and towards a certain prospective. both of whom. still less anything Didactico-Religious. magis amica veritas. to publish a refutation of Hegel and Bardili. Not. with the Night they were uttered in. and for the present quite speculative. at an epoch when puffery and quackery have reached a height unexampled in the annals of mankind. But. it was at most Political. he included under a common ban.— we thought it good to premise.Thomas Carlyle full measure! But what then? Amicus Plato. silent. was the Philosophy of Clothes once touched upon between us. that we can remember. This assurance. If through the high. with whom. than to descend. seemed to lead a quite still and self-contained life: a man devoted to the higher Philosophies. with Herr Oken of Jena was now and then suspected. are to be forever remembered. which indeed. few things have been more unexpected.

silent. and half fancied that their stillness was but the rest of infinite motion. amid volumes of tobacco-smoke. 12 In such scenes has it been our lot to live with this Philosopher. In thy eyes too. there dwelt a most busy brain. combined with a true princely Courtesy of inward nature. then a gurgle of innumerable emptying bumpers. in the highest enthusiasm. such estimate to form of his purposes and powers. and nearly all the Intellect of the place assembled of an evening). proposed this toast: Die Sache der Armen in Gottes und Teufels Namen (The Cause of the Poor. Bleibt doch ein echter Spass-und Galgenvogel. he stood up in full Coffee-house (it was Zur Grunen Gans. to “think and smoke tobacco. in Heaven’s name and —’s)! One full shout. And yet. The secrets of man’s Life were laid open to thee. and looking out so still and dreamy. the assembly broke up. breaking the leaden silence. It was the finale of the night: resuming their pipes. overlapping roof-wise the gravest face we ever in this world saw. thou sawest into the mystery of the Universe. deep-seated Sansculottism. with low. deep under their shaggy brows. and the Compiler of these pages beheld him no more. each to his thoughtful pillow. so long and lank. cloud-capt without and within. who could tell what lurked in thee? Under those thick locks of thine. again followed by universal cheering. there as. looking round: but Teufelsdrockh had retired by private alleys. in loose ill-brushed threadbare habiliments. where all the Virtuosity.” held in it a mighty heart. the sleep of a spinning-top? Thy little figure. returned him loud acclaim. and there. he would probably be hanged for his democratic sentiments. thou sattest. triumphant. soul-stirring tone. thou brave Teufelsdrockh. amid litter and lumber. in thy meek. one day. *Gukguk is unhappily only an academical-beer.Sartor Resartus of Gukguk. still more. though whether of a white or of a black one might be dubious. the largest in Weissnichtwo. whole days. thou hadst in petto thy remarkable Volume on Clothes. Wo steckt doch der Schalk? added they. have we not noticed gleams of an ethereal or else a diabolic fire. said several.* and for a moment lowering his tobacco-pipe. farther than another. was there not in that clear logically founded Transcendentalism of thine. Nay. meaning thereby that. the visible rudiments of such speculation? But great men . and the look truly of an angel.

Everlasting. he had ever some quaint turn. and feel certain enough that they must have a History. The man Teufelsdrockh passed and repassed. wherewith to divert such intrusions. when we dreamed not of it. and for . or as we say. birthplace. is happily not our concern. mysterious shuttles were putting in the woof. For himself. more frequent in German Universities than elsewhere. He was a stranger there. with reference to his great historic and statistic knowledge. in this case. but no more thought of accounting for than for the fabrication of their daily Allgemeine Zeitung. indeed. which Thing doubtless they were accustomed to see. however. not so much as a false one. that in Weissnichtwo. but satisfied herself with the most indistinct replies. in his sly way. misknown. they called him the Ewige Jude. or the domestic habits of the Sun. Wandering Jew. Both were there and welcome. but his. and the vivid way he had of expressing himself like an eyewitness of distant transactions and scenes. and deter you from the like. the warp of thy remarkable Volume lay on the loom. and silently. wafted thither by what is called the course of circumstances. from the archives or memories of the best-informed classes. no Biography of Teufelsdrockh was to be gathered. and with satisfaction. though you see them alive. Wits 13 spoke of him secretly as if he were a kind of Melchizedek. or only such as men give of mountain rocks and antediluvian ruins: That they have been created by unknown agencies. no History seems to be discoverable. he had become not so much a Man as a Thing. the answer of which. of whom. that to question him even afar off on such particulars was a thing of more than usual delicacy: besides.Thomas Carlyle are too often unknown. sometimes. or what is worse. he was a man so still and altogether unparticipating. prospects. not without its satirical edge. in his little circle. after repeated trial. or pursuits. To us it appeared. To the most. as one of those originals and nondescripts. may be a curious question. concerning whose parentage. and thought no more of the matter. curiosity had indeed made inquiries. How the Hofrath Heuschrecke is to furnish biographical data. are in a state of gradual decay. without father or mother of any kind. Already. the world enjoyed what good was in them.

and dropsy soon afterwards finally drove from the helm. “Professor of Things in General.” they doubtless considered premature. The more cunning heads thought it was all an expiring clutch at popularity.Sartor Resartus the present reflect light and resist pressure. Great. are visible and tangible objects in this phantasm world. court intrigues. had quite died away. rapidly or slowly. by title and diploma. except by his nightly appearances . on the part of a Minister. old age. if “in times like ours. nowise endowed it.” he had never delivered any Course. a Professorship of this kind had been established. instead of Denial and Destruction. in the vanguard of the world. on which ground too they had only established the Professorship. that is. Professor der Allerley-Wissenschaft. Considerable also was the wonder at the new Professor. we were to have a science of Affirmation and Reconstruction. was the admiration of this new Professorship: how an enlightened Government had seen into the Want of the Age (Zeitbedurfniss). so able to lecture. dropt opportunely enough into the nascent University. “when all things are. as occasion called. among the more enlightened classes. how at length. the task of bodying somewhat forth again from such Chaos might be. so that Teufelsdrockh. so ready to hold his peace for indefinite periods. long before our visit to that scene. and Germany and Weissnichtwo were where they should be. It was to be remarked that though. But such admiration and such wonder. As for Teufelsdrockh. even slightly. To all appearance. could last only nine days. and Public Classes for the “Science of Things in General. imagined they had done enough. resolving themselves into Chaos. whereby. where so much other mystery is.” as the half-official Program expressed it. being followed by no act to keep them living. “recommended by the highest Names. should occasion call. in founding their New University. facilitated. the enlightened Government of Weissnichtwo.” That actual Lectures should be held. should an enlightened Government consider that occasion did not call. perhaps never been incited thereto by any public furtherance or requisition. and. whom domestic embarrassments.” had been promoted 14 thereby to a Name merely. or as we should say in English.

” we have heard him say. Here. with all their doing and driving (Thun und Treiben). So that it was in fact the speculum or watch-tower of Teufelsdrockh. whether any water be flowing or not. which through its brass mouth-tube emits water to the worthy and the unworthy. felt little of him. duplicates. themselves rising from elevated ground. when once thawed. from his mild ways. without other visible employment: always. showing nothing new. an agreeable phenomenon there. Moreover. which offered two. not more conscious of them. for it rose sheer up above the contiguous roofs. and scrutinize him with due power of vision! We enjoyed. another came to view in the Schlafgemach (bedroom) at the opposite end. on which occasions the whole Coffee-house would hush itself into silence. maintains the same earnest assiduous look. “and witness their wax-laying and . perhaps to hear a whole series and river of the most memorable utterances. To the Editor of these sheets. than is the sculptured stone head of some public fountain. were for the most part visible there. Nay. he sat reading Journals. such as. with fit audience: and the more memorable. however unworthy. more especially when he opened his lips for speech. indeed. what not three men Weissnichtwo could boast of. and might truly be called the pinnacle of Weissnichtwo. wherefrom.Thomas Carlyle at the Grune Gans. careless whether it be for cooking victuals or quenching conflagrations. as to a young enthusiastic Englishman. sometimes contemplatively looking into the clouds of his tobacco-pipe. as if sure to hear something noteworthy. to say nothing of the kitchen. as issuing from a head apparently not more interested in them. as it were. Pity only that we could not then half guess his importance. a certain degree of access to the Professor’s private domicile. It was the attic floor of the highest house in the Wahngasse. the streets and lanes of which. Airts: the sitting room itself commanded three. he would for hours indulge in. with its windows it looked towards all the four Orte or as the Scotch say. sitting at ease he might see the whole life-circulation of that considerable City. “I look down into all that wasp-nest or bee-hive. Teufelsdrockh opened him15 self perhaps more than to the most. over his tumbler of Gukguk. Weissnichtwo saw little of him. and we ought to say.

here. and with four swift horses. where in her door-sill the aged widow. pouring through these streets. These fringes of lamplight. knowest thou whence it is coming. are . inanimate or animate. which inweaves all Being: watch well. cars. down to the low lane. and other Raw Produce. that took shape and will lose it. top-laden. and wains. with young Rusticity. and lighted to the due pitch for her. still rolling here and there through distant streets. Or fanciest thou. what thinks Bootes of them. and seen no more. the lamed Soldier hops painfully along. to prowl or to moan like nightbirds. I see it all. and had not rather its Ancestor alive when Hengst and Horsa overran thy Island? Friend. From the Palace esplanade. and go tumbling out again with produce manufactured. on timber-leg. at midnight.” “Ach. thou seest here a living link in that Tissue of History. and poison-brewing. “it is a true sublimity to dwell here. when Traffic has lain down to rest. mein Lieber!” said he once. bearing Joy and Sorrow bagged up in pouches of leather: there. of all qualities and ages. That living flood. and choking by sulphur. knitting for a thin livelihood sits to feel the afternoon sun. where music plays while Serene Highness is pleased to eat his victuals. is but of To-day. with spurs on its heels and feather in its crown. when we had returned from the Coffee-house in rather earnest talk. begging alms: a thousand carriages. as he leads his Hunting-Dogs over the Zenith in their leash of sidereal fire? That stifled hum of Midnight. or it will be past thee.Sartor Resartus honey-making. except Schlosskirche weather-cock. are bearing her to Halls roofed in. and only Vice and Misery. melting into air? Their solid Pavement is a Picture 16 of the Sense. zu der Ewigkeit hin: From Eternity. rolls in the country Baron and his household. without a Yesterday or a To-morrow. onwards to Eternity! These are Apparitions: what else? Are they not Souls rendered visible: in Bodies. and the chariot-wheels of Vanity. blank Time is behind them and before them. whither it is going? Aus der Ewigkeit. for. they walk on the bosom of Nothing. no biped stands so high. come tumbling in with Food. some fathoms into the ancient reign of Night. the red and yellow Clothes-screen yonder. Couriers arrive bestrapped and bebooted. struggling up through smoke and thousandfold exhalation.

and putrefactions. unquiet slumber of sick Life. in horizontal position. are full of light and music and high-swelling hearts. The Lover whispers his mistress that the coach is ready. glides down. kneels over her pallid dying infant. no feeling might be .” We looked in his face to see whether. sets to his picklocks and crowbars. like an Egyptian pitcher of tamed vipers. I am alone with the stars. Upwards of five hundred thousand two-legged animals without feathers lie round us.— All these heaped and huddled together. Riot cries aloud. Gay mansions. Rouge-etNoir languidly emits its voice-of-destiny to haggard hungry Villains. whose cracked lips only her tears now moisten. and bloodshot eyes look out through the darkness. like the stertorous. and staggers and swaggers in his rank dens of shame. men are dying there. and playing their high chess-game.—on the other side of a brick partition. while Councillors of State sit plotting. like salted fish in their barrel. in the utterance of such extraordinary Night-thoughts. in the Condemned Cells. each struggling to get its head above the others: _such_ work goes on under that smoke-counterpane!—But I. I say. for the light of a stern last morning. with supperrooms and dancing-rooms. what a Fermenting-vat lies simmering and hid! The joyful and the sorrowful are there. The proud Grandee still lingers in his perfumed saloons. sit above it all. void Night. mein Werther. with streaming hair. their heads all in nightcaps.—crammed in. and full of the foolishest dreams. and the Mother. under that hideous coverlet of vapors. shall I say. but. is heard in Heaven! Oh.Thomas Carlyle abroad: that hum. to fly with him over the borders: the Thief. Six men are to be hanged on the morrow: comes no hammering from the Rabenstein?—their gallows must even now be o’ building. men are being born. or lurks in wait till the watchmen first snore in their boxes. men are cursing. which is around and within. Wretchedness cowers into buckle-beds. and unimaginable gases. and around them all is the vast. full of hope and fear. with nothing but a little carpentry and masonry between them. or reposes within damask curtains. the 17 pulse of life beats tremulous and faint. still more silently. and she. or shivers hungerstricken into its lair of straw: in obscure cellars. whereof the pawns are Men. men are praying.—or weltering.

would she serve or give heed to. only some once in the month 18 she half-forcibly made her way thither. “united in a common element of dust. with broom and duster. here fluttered a sheet of manuscript. and spoon. drove him out of doors: but Lieschen was his right-arm. or nightcap hastily thrown aside. full of books and tattered papers. and sorted. ‘Liza). and for the rest a very orderly creature. which indeed was only a single tallow-light.Sartor Resartus traced there. and general lion’s-provider. and (Teufelsdrockh hastily saving his manuscripts) effected a partial clearance. with the least possible violence to the ear. deaf also you would often have supposed her. while the visitor had liberty either to say what he listed. These were her Erdbeben (earthquakes). had no sovereign authority in this last citadel of Teufelsdrockh. errand-maid. Glad would he have been to sit here philosophizing forever. nothing save that old calmness and fixedness was visible. and Teufelsdrockh only. and miscellaneous shreds of all conceivable substances. in her kitchen. Periodical Literature. It was a strange apartment.” Books lay on tables. and the speechless Lieschen herself looked out on you. from . there a torn handkerchief. and below tables. Old Lieschen (Lisekin. and then take himself away. or sat altogether silent and smoked. or till the litter. ink-bottles alternated with bread-crusts. and would not be flatly gainsayed. if it were not rather by some secret divination that she guessed all his wants. and with him she seemed to communicate chiefly by signs. These were the Professor’s talking seasons: most commonly he spoke in mere monosyllables. or to look round for a space. who was his bed-maker and stove-lighter. but with the light we had. so silent that some thought her dumb. and Blucher Boots. his washer and wringer. to such length he had been forced to comply. and far enough from the window. which Teufelsdrockh dreaded worse than the pestilence. cook. by accumulation. receiving for answer an occasional grunt. a jail-delivery of such lumber as was not Literary. tobacco-boxes. and swept. yet all was tight and right there: hot and black came the coffee ever at the due moment. for Teufelsdrockh. coffee-pots. We can still remember the ancient woman. and supplied them. nevertheless. Assiduous old dame! she scoured. and necessary of life.

—it might have seemed wonderful how Herr Heuschrecke should be named a Rath. as it 19 went jerking to and fro. at most. is his love of Teufelsdrockh. pacific individuals. that. hat wenigstens gehabt. at that period. was probably the best: Er hat Gemuth und Geist. for us all. who indeed handled the burin like few in these cases. ourselves excepted. Few strangers. The main point. doch ohne Organ. in whose loose. clean-brushed. or Councillor. in Germany as elsewhere. crane-necked. and Counsellor. was not quite groundless. and how. we shall now hope. in minute incessant fluctuation. in dry weather or in wet. as above hinted. Herr Heuschrecke seemed one of those pursemouthed. and so is now half-cracked. or favor of Fortune.Thomas Carlyle under her clean white coif with its lappets. ist gegenwartig aber halb-zerruttet. even in Weissnichtwo. the ninety-and-nine Public Men can for most part be but mute train-bearers to the hundredth. Nevertheless friend Teufelsdrockh’s outline. which indeed was also by far the most decisive feature of Heuschrecke himself. in whose thin visage. safe in the stronghold of Historical Fidelity. through her clean withered face and wrinkles. full of sadness and kindness. or to any woman. had admittance hither: the only one we ever saw there.” Had we not known with what “little wisdom” the world is governed. at least has had such. To us.”—What the Hofrath shall think of this when he sees it. doubtless. Timidity and physical Cold? Some indeed said withal. was the Hofrath Heuschrecke. we. ohne Schicksals-Gunst. halberstarrt. almost of benevolence. to the readers of these pages. “He has heart and talent. What counsel to any man. already known. could this particular Hofrath give. are careless. for many reasons. half-congealed. the whole of which. with a look of helpful intelligence. “they never appear without their umbrella.— you traced rather confusion worse confounded. he was “the very Spirit of Love embodied:” blue earnest eyes. by name and expectation. purse ever open. We are enabled to assert that he hung on the Professor with the fondness of . perhaps but stalking-horses and willing or unwilling dupes. readers may wonder. yet without fit mode of utterance. perhaps sufficiently distinguished in society by this fact. and so forth. zigzag figure.

In short. social. being the elder. and so forth. the color of his trousers. The Wisest truly is. it was curious to observe with what reverent kindness. Heuschrecke’s also unpuckered itself into a free doorway. whom he seemed to consider as a living oracle. and most likely does he still. of his wide surtout. so that an enlightened curiosity leaving Kings and such like to rest very much on their own basis. in all probability. there was no symptom. as some half-rational or altogether irrational friend. it was that the indomitable Inquirer fought all his battles with Dulness and Darkness. our Hofrath. Let but Teufelsdrockh open his mouth. and a sort of fatherly protection. but do not. richer. we might report. turns more and more to the Philosophic Class: nevertheless. did Teufelsdrockh. perched up in his high Wahngasse watch-tower. Bravo! Das glaub’ ich. except perhaps in his self-seclusion. and Bodily Presence. and seemed crank and slack). In such environment. till once the Documents arrive? His Life. that he wrote this surprising Volume on Clothes. physical. Teufelsdrockh could be brought home to him. and as he fondly imagined far more practically influential of the two. or matter only of faint . And perhaps with the like return. of which. to 20 whom no dough-pill he could knead and publish was other than medicinal and sacred. looked and tended on his little Sage. he gurgled out his pursy chuckle of a coughlaugh (for the machinery of laughter took some time to get in motion. in solitude. here. in either case. so that nothing might be lost: and then. and at best loved him out of gratitude and by habit. at every pause in the harangue. for Teufelsdrockh treated his gaunt admirer with little outward regard. by way of heartiest approval. at the time of our acquaintance. live and meditate. outwatching the Bear. which was of that standing middle sort you could only guess at. domestic. then might Heuschrecke pass for his chief Talapoin. what reader expects that. On the other hand. and godlike indifference.Sartor Resartus a Boswell for his Johnson. are as yet hidden from us. Fortunes. fashion of his broad-brimmed steeple-hat. and often. Additional particulars: of his age. the Greatest. Here. if Teufelsdrockh was Dalai-Lama. besides his being all eye and all ear. with all our writing and reporting. in these times. or else his twanging nasal.

Apart from the choice of such a topic as Clothes. but fatal to his success with our public. as in opening new mine-shafts is not unreasonable. which is the best effect of any book. as it were. there is much rubbish in his Book. nay. patience of research. that it promised to prove. More specially may it now be declared that Professor Teufelsdrockh’s acquirements. on the other hand. inspiration. calls many things by their mere dic21 CHAPTER IV CHARACTERISTICS It were a piece of vain flattery to pretend that this Work on Clothes entirely contents us. A paramount popularity in England we cannot promise him.” we for the present gladly return. though the highest published creation. and unhappily no less his prolixity and tortuosity and manifold ineptitude. that it is not. the opening of a new mine-shaft.Thomas Carlyle conjecture. that it had even operated changes in our way of thought. to his opinions. we admitted that the Book had in a high degree excited . like all works of genius. which. wherein the whole world of Speculation might henceforth dig to unknown depths. philosophic and even poetic vigor. with dulness. indeed inevitable in a German. has nevertheless black spots and troubled nebulosities amid its effulgence. that. on the “Origin and Influence of Clothes. unblamable. He speaks out with a strange plainness. too often the manner of treating it betokens in the Author a rusticity and academic seclusion. Of good society Teufelsdrockh appears to have seen little. and even utter blindness. on the whole. But. though likewise specimens of almost invaluable ore.—a mixture of insight. like the very Sun. us to self-activity. namely. or work of genius. or has mostly forgotten what he saw. are here made indisputably manifest. does not his Soul lie enclosed in this remarkable Volume. Without committing ourselves to those enthusiastic praises and prophesyings of the Weissnichtwo’sche Anzeiger. much more truly than Pedro Garcia’s did in the buried Bag of Doubloons? To the soul of Diogenes Teufelsdrockh. double-vision.

which.” he says. neither is any Drawing-room a Temple. take rise: if indeed they have not a second source. and here and there an arrow of the soul pierce through? In our wild Seer. is venerable. strength. the star of a Lord is little less and little more than the broad button of Birmingham spelter in a Clown’s smock. Wonderful it is with what cutting words. as Teufelsdrockh maintains. and pier-glasses. a silent. “each is an implement. Many a deep glance. for the rest. and under the thickliest embroidered waistcoat beats a heart. he severs asunder the confusion. and hammered on a stithy before smith’s fingers.” Thus does the Professor look in men’s faces with a strange impartiality. like a man dropped thither from the Moon. who knows but among the fashionable ranks too. but nowise for her pearl bracelets and Malines laces: in his eyes.” as he himself expresses it. if it be true. that all these shortcomings. we can safely recommend the Work: nay. has he cast into mysterious Nature. there is an untutored energy. and ormolu. and the still more mysterious Life of Man. now and then. in his Transcendental Philosophies. “cannot hide from me that such Drawing-room is simply a section of Infinite Space.Sartor Resartus tionary names. except in the higher walks of Literature. must be rare. where so many God-created Souls do for the time meet together. over-shootings. To him the Upholsterer is no Pontiff. was dug from the earth. the more lamentable. “in its kind. and often with unspeakable precision. like a Baptist living on locusts and wild honey. unkempt. a tag for hookingtogether.”—the force of that rapt earnestness may be felt. and multiform perversities. whereby truly his case were but the more hopeless. of which class it is firmly believed there are individuals yet extant. as it were unconscious. Rightly considered.” To Teufelsdrockh the highest Duchess is respectable. shaggy. were it fur- . that “within the most starched cravat there passes a windpipe and weasand. however. were it never so begilt and overhung: “a whole immensity of Brussels carpets. sheers down. To the Thinkers of this nation. it is in this peculiarity. and humor of looking at all Matter and Material things as Spirit. and. running through his whole system of thought. like a man unversed in the higher circles. also natural 22 enough. a strange scientific freedom.

Occasionally. his burning thoughts step forth in fit burning words.—On the other hand. so often intervene! On the whole. which indeed he is. and there not only hits the nail on the head. the remainder are in quite angular attitudes. in almost his very worst moods. shall he not be learned? In respect of style our Author manifests the same genial capability. a true inspiration. fiery poetic emphasis. and ever with this or the other tagrag hanging from them. picturesque allusions. Nevertheless. buttressed up by props (of parentheses and dashes). but natural. wedded to the clearest Intellect. there lies in him a singular attraction. a few even sprawl out helplessly on all sides. to the Germans such universality of study passes without wonder. as a thing commendable. down to Robinson Crusoe and the Belfast Town and Country Almanack. or quaint tricksy turns. like so many full-formed Minervas. but with crushing force smites it home. circumlocutions. marred too often by the same rudeness. and apparent want of intercourse with the higher classes. into the true centre of the matter. Were it not that sheer sleeping and soporific passages. indeed. is not a cultivated writer. Lingard. a rich. all the graces and terrors of a wild Imagination. he will play truant for long pages. and there of course. Professor Teufelsdrockh. from Sanchoniathon to Dr. alternate in beautiful vicissitude. and buries it. as if he were asleep with eyes open. in23 equality. indispensable. he is the most unequal writer breathing. and Korans. from your Oriental Shasters. Often after some such feat. and mumbling and maundering the merest commonplaces. like its keynote and regula- . with Cassini’s Siamese fables. as above hinted. idiomatic diction.—we shall say nothing: for unexampled as it is with us. and how all reading and literature in most known tongues. and Talmuds. Of his sentences perhaps not more than nine-tenths stand straight on their legs. issuing amid flame and splendor from Jove’s head. and go dawdling and dreaming. we find consummate vigor. touches even of pure doting jargon. Of his boundless Learning. let us be free to admit. A wild tone pervades the whole utterance of the man. repetitions. are familiar to him. and Laplace’s Mecanique Celeste. A man that devotes his life to learning. quite broken-backed and dismembered.Thomas Carlyle longs deep.

shows such indifference. which we reckon among the very highest qualities of genius. enough to have awakened the Seven Sleepers! It was of Jean Paul’s doing: some single billow in that vast World-Mahlstrom of Humor. and angels and demons. if indeed it be not mere stolid callousness. Under a like difficulty. may indeed be reflexes of the heavenly Stars. to whom this great terrestrial and celestial Round. in which only children could take interest. into whose black deeps you fear to gaze: those eyes. and keep it warm. but then such a peal of laughter. malign coolness towards all that men strive after. with its heaven-kissing coruscations. or else the shrill mockery of Fiends. in spite even of our personal intercourse. high-encircled mountain-pool. and ever with some half-visible wrinkle of a bitter sardonic humor. were chaotically whirled. once only. alas. this of Teufelsdrockh! Here. those lights that sparkle in it. it seems as if under that rude exterior there dwelt a very seraph. though sometimes abrupt enough. were but some huge foolish Whirligig. as we mentioned. is probably the gravest ever seen: yet it is not of that cast-iron gravity frequent enough among our own Chancery suitors. he could clasp the whole Universe into his bosom. or some echo of mere Insanity and Inanity. where kings and beggars. into the common pitch. and stars and street-sweepings. however. which is now. now sinking in cadences. all .—that you look on him almost with a shud24 der. perhaps the crater of an extinct volcano. Gleams of an ethereal love burst forth from him. when we hear it only as a monotonous hum. Certainly a most involved. so imperturbably saturnine. self-secluded. now screwing itself aloft as into the Song of Spirits. Then again he is so sly and still. not without melodious heartiness. of which hum the true character is extremely difficult to fix. His look. soft wailings of infinite pity. but rather the gravity as of some silent. Up to this hour we have never fully satisfied ourselves whether it is a tone and hum of real Humor. do we still lie with regard to the Professor’s moral feeling. which doubtless ranks below the very lowest.Sartor Resartus tor. altogether enigmatic nature. as on some incarnate Mephistopheles. we gladly recall to mind that once we saw him laugh. after all. perhaps it was the first and last time in his life. but perhaps also glances from the region of Nether Fire.

a radiant ever-young Apollo looked.” and. stratagems. Herr Teufelsdrockh has one scarcely pardonable fault. both large enough in soul. his adherence to the mere course of Time produces. and that no man who has once heartily and wholly laughed 25 can be altogether irreclaimably bad. it is true. On the Proposal for a Cast-metal King: gradually a light kindled in our Professor’s eyes and face. The present Editor. wherewith we decipher the whole man! Some men wear an everlasting barren simper.—loud.—tears streaming down his cheeks. sat talking miscellaneously together. produce some whiffling husky cachinnation. in the smile of others lies a cold glitter as of ice: the fewest are able to laugh. but of the whole man from head to heel. The man who cannot laugh is not only fit for treasons. in his serious way. doubtless his worst: an almost total want of arrangement. and Richter himself could not rouse him again. and sank into his old stillness. or at best. loveliest light. unhappily. foot clutched into the air. Teufelsdrockh. and a Philosophical-Speculative: but falls. a Historical-Descriptive. a slight look of shame. began to fear all was not right: however. the Work naturally falls into two Parts. the present Editor being privileged to listen. through the Narrative portions. pipe held aloft. a certain show of outward method. mantling. composed himself. yet with measure. a beaming. who laughed indeed. if anything. but of true logical method and sequence there is too little. through those murky features. but only sniff and titter and snigger from the throat outwards. was giving one of those inimitable “Extra-Harangues. a laugh not of the face and diaphragm only. long-continuing. and now Paul. on his inscrutable countenance there was. How much lies in Laughter: the cipher-key. uncontrollable. but his whole life is already a treason and a stratagem. and he burst forth like the neighing of all Tattersall’s. in that . as it chanced. and spoils. as if they were laughing through wool: of none such comes good. Apart from its multifarious sections and subdivisions. Considered as an Author. In this remarkable Volume.Thomas Carlyle congealed in the frost of death! The large-bodied Poet and the small. what can be called laughing. Readers who have any tincture of Psychology know how much is to be inferred from this. by no firm line of demarcation.

Many sections are of a debatable rubric. and monstrous tuberosities. each Part overlaps. Again. and fish and flesh. with an Esprit des Lois. an Architectural Idea will be found lurking. is to be built.Sartor Resartus labyrinthic combination. In all which. and habilatory endeavors. so does the Color betoken Temper and Heart. though infinitely complex working of Cause and Effect: every snip of the Scissors has been regulated and prescribed by ever26 CHAPTER V THE WORLD IN CLOTHES “As Montesquieu wrote a Spirit of Laws.—will depend on the nature of such Architectural Idea: whether Grecian. of a Person. but the hand is ever guided on by mysterious operations of the mind. based on light sandals. . we should have an Esprit de Costumes. what meaning lies in Color! From the soberest drab to the high-flaming scarlet. tower up in high headgear. To bring what order we can out of this Chaos shall be part of our endeavor. and Parisian or Anglo-Dandiacal. wherein all courses had been confounded. or altogether Modern. swell out in starched ruffs. and indeed runs quite through the other. but too often distresses us like some mad banquet. among nations as among individuals. and front the world an Agglomeration of four limbs. and indents. his Body and the Cloth are the site and materials whereon and whereby his beautified edifice. and the hungry Public invited to help itself. For neither in tailoring nor in legislating does man proceed by mere Accident. Later Gothic.” observes our Professor. buckram stuffings. “so could I write a Spirit of Clothes. spangles and bell-girdles. spiritual idiosyncrasies unfold themselves in choice of Color: if the Cut betoken Intellect and Talent. or even quite nondescript and unnamable. whereby the Book not only loses in accessibility. or girth himself into separate sections. indubitable. Gothic. In all his Modes. thus. oyster-sauce. there is an incessant. soup and solid. lettuces. were hurled into one huge tureen or trough. properly an Esprit de Coutumes. from amid peaks. Whether he flow gracefully out in folded mantles. Rhine-wine and French mustard.

the Library Editors are welcome to dig in it for their own behoof. Adam’s first wife. to wear and obey anything!— Much. whom. as of Laws. aquatic. Useful. Selection being indispensable. as hypothetical. but even why I am here. are my humbler and proper province. when he recommended us to that joint-stock vehicle of publication. such Philosophies have always seemed to me uninstructive enough. were probably a comfortable winter-evening entertainment: nevertheless. not why I wear such and such a Garment. Still less have we to do with “Lilis. which turns on Paradise and Figleaves. Entertaining. the lexicon of which lies in Eternity. therefore. metaphorical. and leads us into interminable disquisitions of a mythological. and Deductions drawn therefrom in quite another than that omniscient style. “For such superior Intelligences a Cause-and-Effect Philosophy of Clothes. ineffectual. in Heaven?—Let any Cause-andEffect Philosopher explain. for inferior Intelligences. according to the Talmudists.” Acting on which prudent restriction. if not the whole. like men. the whole progeny of aerial. which doubtless to Intelligences of a superior order are neither invisible nor illegible. This First Part is. and even impertinent: naked Facts. distinguished by omnivorous learning. we shall content ourselves with giving an unconcerned approval. and terrestrial . in its results and delineations. of that same Spirit of Clothes I shall suppress. we shall here glance over his First Part only in the most cursory manner.Thomas Carlyle active Influences. at least. cabalistico-sartorial and quite antediluvian cast. obey such and such a Law. he had before Eve. “at present the glory of British Literature”? If so. it is much more likely to interest the Compilers of some Library of General. and who bore him. the boundaries too often lie quite 27 beyond our horizon. To the First Chapter. Was it this Part of the Book which Heuschrecke had in view. and utmost patience and fairness: at the same time. no doubt. what is your Montesquieu himself but a clever infant spelling Letters from a hieroglyphical prophetic Book. Nay. has nevertheless contrived to take in a well-nigh boundless extent of field. Teufelsdrockh. or even Useless Knowledge than the miscellaneous readers of these pages. in that wedlock.

“was the condition of the Aboriginal Savage. we think. and depth of Talmudic and Rabbinical lore have filled perhaps not the worst Hebraist in Britain with something like astonishment. Of this sort the following has surprised us. if you will. Otaheitean. heterogeneous as it is. quitting this twilight region. at the rate of three journeys a day. or view of the costumes of all mankind. He loitered in the sunny glades of the forest. to follow the dispersion of Mankind over the whole habitable and habilable globe. the drossy parts smelted out and thrown aside. “Miserable indeed. we must admit that the Learning. and sometimes touching pictures of human life. but ornament. Egyptian. Celtic hilibegs (though breeches. with its profound glances into the AdamKadmon. the rest of his body sheeted in its thick natural fell. in all countries. phylacteries. to the Historian. chlamydes. or. Ancient and Modern researches of every conceivable kind. glaring fiercely from under his fleece of hair. which with the beard reached down to his loins. living on wild-fruits. are the more ancient). Scandinavian. Teufelsdrockh hastens from the Tower of Babel. he strives to give us in compressed shape (as the Nurnbergers give an Orbis Pictus) an Orbis Vestitus. Chinese silks. as the an- . it may be enough to say. as the name Gallia Braccata indicates. here strangely brought into relation with the Nifl and Muspel (Darkness and Light) of the antique North. or Primeval Element. On this portion of the Work. is true concentrated and purified Learning. Walking by the light of Oriental. Hussar cloaks. For most part. and hung round him like a matted cloak. trunk-hose. The first purpose of Clothes.”—very needlessly. which twelve wagons in twelve days. fardingales. leather breeches. But. Afghaun shawls. stoles. albs. Philosophical reflections intervene.— even the Kilmarnock nightcap is not forgotten. It is here that to the Antiquarian. too. Sheepskin cloaks and wampum belts. ruffs. Pelasgic. togas. Vandyke tippets. as our Professor imagines. was not warmth or decency. and tumbled down quite pell-mell. could 28 not carry off. we can triumphantly say: Fall to! Here is learning: an irregular Treasury. in all times.” says he. that its correctness of deduction. are brought vividly before us. but inexhaustible as the Hoard of King Nibelung.Sartor Resartus Devils.

in his hollow tree. whom thou lovest. Warmth he found in the toils of the chase. into the ever-living. of Animal courage under Spiritual.—has descended. it will be found flourishing as a Banyan-grove (perhaps. indeed. thy Word. The first ground handful of Nitre. worshippest as a divine Presence. loftiest Serene Highness. among wild people. like thyself. Nevertheless. What changes are wrought. as indeed we still see among the barbarous classes in civilized countries. or natural grotto: but for Decoration he must have Clothes. Cast forth thy Act. snow-androsebloom Maiden. we find tattooing and painting even prior to Clothes.—sick of lugging his slow Ox about the country till he got it bartered for corn or oil.Thomas Carlyle cient Caledonian. A simple invention it was in the old-world Grazier. alas. his next care was not Comfort but Decoration (Putz). The first spiritual want of a barbarous man is Decoration. the pains of Hunger and Revenge once satisfied. the heaven-inspired melodious Singer. without arms. as a Hemlock-forest!) after a thousand years. squatted himself in morasses. nay thy own amber-locked. or amid dried leaves. worthy to glide sylph-like almost on air. save the ball of heavy Flint. without implements. “He who first shortened the labor of Copyists by device of Movable Types was disbanding hired Armies. that his sole possession and defence might not be lost. out of the strong cometh forth sweetness. flint-hurling 29 Aboriginal Anthropophagus! Out of the eater cometh forth meat. and cashiering most Kings and Senates. which. is in continual growth. Nay. in his bark shed. she is. yet in Time! For not Mankind only. unnoticed to-day (says one). Sulphur. and Charcoal drove Monk Schwartz’s pestle through the ceiling: what will the last do? Achieve the final undisputed prostration of Force under Thought. thereby recovering as well as hurling it with deadly unerring skill. “Reader. to which. re-genesis and self-perfecting vitality. symbolically taken. but all that Mankind does or beholds. lurking for his bestial or human prey. not by Time.—to take a piece of . from that same hair-mantled. and creating a whole new Democratic world: he had invented the Art of Printing. everworking Universe: it is a seed-grain that cannot die. he had attached a long cord of plaited thongs.

” Here may we not. he stands on a basis. and thereon scratch or stamp the mere Figure of an Ox (or Pecus). Nevertheless he can use Tools. and of small stature. for a moment. and is the manliest man the greatest and oftenest laugher? Teufelsdrockh himself. which began in foolishest love of Ornament.—to the length of sixpence. he kneads glowing iron. indeed. Modesty). arose there mysteriously under Clothes. philosophers to teach him. Money. interrupt the stream of Oratory with a remark. they are threatening to make Clothesscreens of us. at 30 most for the flattest-soled.” continues our eloquent Professor. and whoso has sixpence is sovereign (to the length of sixpence) over all men. can devise Tools: with these the granite mountain melts into light dust before him. the Leather Money is now Golden and Paper. or attempt to do it. Weak in himself.Sartor Resartus Leather. the steer of the meadow tosses him aloft. as yet a stranger to the Anthropophagous bosom. and call it Pecunia. like a waste rag. which. Feeblest of bipeds! Three quintals are a crushing load for him. with Tools he is all. “But. on the whole. distinctions. considerably the precisest and best? Man is called a Laughing Animal: but do not the apes also laugh. Yet hereby did Barter grow Sale. of all that Animal-sort. lest the very wind supplant him. commands cooks to feed him. without Tools he is nothing. is as good as useless. insecurely enough. laughed only once. what have they not become! Increased Security and pleasurable Heat soon followed: but what of these? Shame. and all miracles have been outmiracled: for there are Rothschilds and English National Debts. kings to mount guard over him. Can a Tartar be said . that this Definition of the Toolusing Animal appears to us. seas are his smooth highway. as we said. for rigorous scientific purposes.—Clothes too. of some half-square foot. a mystic grove-encircled shrine for the Holy in man. winds and fire his unwearying steeds. social polity. divine Shame (Schaam. Clothes have made Men of us. Nowhere do you find him without Tools. put it in his pocket. “Man is a Tool-using Animal (Handthierendes Thier). as if it were soft paste. Still less do we make of that other French Definition of the Cooking Animal. has to straddle out his legs. Clothes gave us individuality.

“Man is a Tool-using Animal. have no victuals but pipe-clay. What. might do? Or how would Monsieur Ude prosper among those Orinoco Indians who. He digs up certain black stones from the bosom of the earth. sometimes even a tone of levity. beyond stowing up his whale-blubber.” CHAPTER VI APRONS One of the most unsatisfactory Sections in the whole Volume is that on Aprons. are we to make of such sentences as the following? . “whose Apron. because raised in revolt which proved successful. “who threatened Sovereign Majesty that she would catch her husband’s head in her Apron. according to Humboldt. rather than he should lie and be a bishop. on the branches of trees. the Persian Blacksmith. “of which truth Clothes are but one example: and surely if we consider the interval between the first wooden Dibble fashioned by man. lodge in crow-nests. show us the human being. apparently by lot. in the like case. when he only readies his steak by riding on it? Again. What though stout old Gao. with many other Apron worthies. now indeed hidden under jewels. and Thong to it. we shall note what progress he has made. sorrow and sin for us. as we saw. six hundred and fifty-eight miscella31 neous individuals. hunger and. as a marmot. on the other hand.” what though the Landgravine Elizabeth. and says to them. and they do it. Make this nation toil for us. and says to them. of any period or climate. in his abrupt way. and those Liverpool Steam-carriages. what Cookery does the Greenlander use. Transport me and this luggage at the rate of file-and-thirty miles an hour. and they do it: he collects. the whole country being under water? But. for half the year.Thomas Carlyle to cook. approaching to conventional satire.” concludes Teufelsdrockh. without his Tools: those very Caledonians. such as no brute has or can have.” what though John Knox’s Daughter. bleed for us. is still the royal standard of that country.—figure here? An idle wire-drawing spirit. is too clearly discernible. had their Flint-ball. or the British House of Commons. and. for example.

or to those jingling sheet-iron Aprons. and will find us an outlet. Wherein consists the usefulness of this Apron? The Overseer (Episcopus) of Souls. has tucked in the corner of 32 it.—is there not range enough in the fashion and uses of this Vestment? How much has been concealed. against injury to cleanliness. wherein Society works (uneasily enough). new means must of necessity be had recourse to. but a huge scarlet-colored. However. wherein the Builder builds. In the mean while. exuberant as it is. has gracefully fastened on.—Teufelsdrockh continues: “If such supply of printed Paper should rise so far as to choke up the highways and public thoroughfares. iron-fastened Apron. with important extensions. which some highest-bred housewife. in this Devil’s-smithy (Teufelsschmiede) of a world? But of all Aprons the most puzzling to me hitherto has been the Episcopal or Cassock. to modesty. wherein your otherwise half-naked Vulcans hammer and smelt in their smelt-furnace. to safety. as if his day’s work were done: what does he shadow forth thereby?” &c. charged at uncalculated millions. guarding itself from some soil and stithy-sparks. sitting at Nurnberg Work-boxes and Toy-boxes. sometimes to roguery. therefore as an encouragement to modern Literature. and at evening sticks his trowel. to the thick-tanned hide. rightly considered. I notice. and indeed have reason to be thankful that hitherto there are other vents for our Literature. the emblem and beatified ghost of an Apron). for Typography. Heaven is omnipotent. as a new vent. &c. though a slight one. From the thin slip of notched silk (as it were. worn by the Parisian Cooks. we grudge to employ fire as a destroying element. and deserving of approval: nor is it without satisfaction that I hear of a celebrated London Firm having in view to introduce the same fashion.Sartor Resartus “Aprons are Defences. what is your whole Military and Police Establishment. In a world existing by Industry. in England. how much has been defended in Aprons! Nay. is it not beautiful to see five million quintals of Rags picked annu- . and not as a creating one. Or again. girt round him with thongs.”—We who are on the spot hear of no such thing. has it often been the lot of our readers to read such stuff as we shall now quote? “I consider those printed Paper Aprons.

wandering in regions where he had little business. the true era of extravagance in Costume. imaginary Historian of the Brittische Journalistik. It is here that the Antiquary and Student of Modes comes upon his richest harvest.Thomas Carlyle ally from the Laystall. spurious. confound the old authentic Presbyterian Witchfinder with a new. who love the man. like monster devouring monster in a . after being macerated. Fantastic garbs. how33 ever. which. hot-pressed. printed on. which they keep alive!”—Such passages fill us. a valuable descriptive History already exists. unless they are fools. in larger or smaller circles. and partly esteem him. or Combination of Able Editors. perhaps the most important of all. storm-tost chaos of Life. gains the world’s ear. especially with its Rags or Clothes-rubbish. and Fountain-of-motion. and down to the end of the Seventeenth Century. succeed each other. billowy. but of Stamped Broad-sheet Dynasties. I have not yet succeeded in procuring (vermochte night aufzutreiben). Thus does Teufelsdrockh. filling so many hungry mouths by the way? Thus is the Laystall. and Tudors and Hapsburgs. from which and to which the Social Activities (like vitreous and resinous Electricities) circulate. but snore. in that language. under the title of Satan’s Invisible World Displayed. when he reaches the Middle Ages in Europe. beggaring all fancy of a Teniers or a Callot. according as this or the other Able Editor. and so stumble on perhaps the most egregious blunder in Modern Literature! CHAPTER VII MISCELLANEOUS-HISTORICAL Happier is our Professor. and annually. through the mighty. with a very mixed feeling. must write not of Bourbon Dynasties. Of the British Newspaper Press. and sold. and quite new successive Names. and wonderful enough in its secret constitution and procedure. the grand Electric Battery. Farther down we meet with this: “The Journalists are now the true Kings and Clergy: henceforth Historians.” Thus does the good Homer not only nod.—returned thither. and more purely scientific and historic. by search in all the Weissnichtwo Libraries.

whereat hang little bells. whose roots are not intertangled with its branches. has a grateful effect. and Gothicarch intersections. and were now a foreigner to his Europe. of musical turn. But happily no bygone German. have Teusinke [a perhaps untranslatable article]. 678) is. that it may be thrown out as a pertinent question for parties concerned. I find. by way of example. Observe too how fond they are of peaks. “Rich men. in a short while. till the whole has acquired somewhat of a sign-post character. and invoke the Virgin. and see our haberdashery. less touched upon. and the other accidents of walking. Some few. or man. Whether or not a good English Translation thereof might henceforth be profitably incorporated with Mr. were they to rise again. are wonderful enough for us. whose buffbelts. the very Napoleon. but lie peaceably underground. precise. Merrick’s valuable Work On Ancient Armor? Take. no fashion will continue. and no room for him. thus the Present is not needlessly trammelled with the Past. Thus is the Law of Progress secured. and other riding and fighting gear have been bepainted in modern Romance. Nay it is very mournful. rises again. would cross themselves. and only grows out of it.Sartor Resartus Dream. as authority for which Paulinus’s Zeitkurzende Lust (ii. to see and know. 34 would find his place quite filled up here. as in all other external things whatsoever. graphical. yet not useless. like a Tree. referred to: “Did we behold the German fashionable dress of the Fifteenth Century. and in Clothes. so learned. with seeming confidence. has become obsolete. the following sketch. it is with continual jingling.—I shall here say nothing: the civil and pacific classes. huge churn-boots. also a silver girdle. and every way interesting have we found these Chapters. which. we might smile. “Of the military classes in those old times. Indeed. as perhaps those bygone Germans. an . especially in sudden whirls. have a whole chime of bells (Glockenspiel) fastened there. The whole too in brief authentic strokes. the very Byron. how the Greatest and Dearest. The male world wears peaked caps. in some seven years. and touched not seldom with that breath of genius which makes even old raiment live. complicated chains and gorgets. so that when a man walks.

” Our Professor. pasted together with batter (mit Teig zusammengekleistert). but the men have doublets of fustian. which waver round them by way of hem. Wives of quality. and laced on the side with tags. flit abroad in gowns scolloped out behind and before. or rather silver shells. and. or other the like phenomena. on the other hand. according to my authority. even the wooden shoes have their ell-long noses: some also clap bells on the peak. counted shoes. are noticed with due fidelity. with gold spangles. and the long round doublet must overlap them. which hang bobbing over the side (schief): their shoes are peaked in front.Thomas Carlyle ell long. a sly observance of it which. manifests a certain feeling of the Ludicrous. In winter weather you behold 35 the whole fair creation (that can afford it) in long mantles. which trains there are boys to carry. “Rich maidens. we might call a real love. the long flood of silver buttons. some twenty inches broad: these are their Ruff-mantles (Kragenmantel). None of those bell-girdles. not one but two sufficient hand-broad welts. Further. so that back and breast are almost bare. a handbreadth thick. which create protuberance enough. Brave Cleopatras. Sir Walter Raleigh’s fine mantle. and pendent flames (Flammen). Thus do the two sexes vie with each other in the art of Decoration. bushel-breeches. have traingowns four or five ells in length. “As yet among the womankind hoop-petticoats are not. from throat to shoe. with a Cupid for steersman! Consider their welts. again. for hem. whether he have humor himself or not. sparkling hair-drops: but of their mother’s head-gear who shall speak? Neither in love of grace is comfort forgotten. The maidens have bound silver snoods about their hair. incident to the wearers of such. that is. sailing in their silk-cloth Galley. the men have breeches without seat (ohne Gesass): these they fasten peakwise to their shirts. also to the length of an ell. and as usual the stronger carries it. could emotion of any kind be confidently predicated of so still a man. all ending atop in a thick well-starched Ruff. of which the History of Dress offers so many. wherewith these same weltgowns are buttoned. with skirts wide below. which he spread in the mud under Queen . or striking adventures. under which lie multiple ruffs of cloth. escape him: more especially the mischances.

is provided (some were wont to cut off the corners. and this ill-starred individual by a rent in his breeches. and white-painted on the cheeks. and had the Maiden Queen been stuffed parchment dyed in verdigris.—our Professor fails not to comment on that luckless Courtier.”—Has Teufelsdrockh. and not only dressed. his galloons and slashes dangling sorrowful and flabby round him. he merely asks. twelve feet in diagonal. Boileau Despreaux (according to Helvetius) by the peck of a turkey.” . yield cheerfully to Destiny. 36 an unfledged booby and bustard. to pay his devoir on the entrance of Majesty. Vain was the prayer of Themistocles for a talent of Forgetting: my Friends.—for no Memoirist of Kaiser Otto’s Court omits him. Thus too. when from spleen and wrinkles she would no longer look in any glass. and in battle from many strokes (for he rolls it about his left arm). would have done the same.Sartor Resartus Elizabeth’s feet.” observes our Professor. and read since it is written. by introduction of Bran. in the late Colombian wars. by his limbs. is that used as regimental. A square Blanket. nearly related to the impossible talent of Forgetting. stands that talent of Silence. that were not only slashed and gallooned. and make it circular): in the centre a slit is effected eighteen inches long. most Kings and Queens by being born under such and such a bedtester. but harnessed and draperied. appears to provoke little enthusiasm in him. who having seated himself on a chair with some projecting nail on it. were wont to serve her”? We can answer that Sir Walter knew well what he was doing. treating of those enormous habiliments. through this the mother-naked Trooper introduces his head and neck. Whereupon the Professor publishes this reflection:— “By what strange chances do we live in History? Erostratus by a torch. to be put in mind that. as her tire-women. Milo by a bullock. and therefrom rising. Henry Darnley. but artificially swollen out on the broader parts of the body. by Bolivar’s Cavalry. Whether at that period the Maiden Queen “was red-painted on the nose. instantaneously emitted several pecks of dry wheat-dust: and stood there diminished to a spindle. “which I anywhere find alluded to in History. which even travelling Englishmen manifest? “The simplest costume. and so rides shielded from all weather.

much more will he in the Speculative-Philosophical portion. It is here that thc present Editor first feels the pressure of his task. that of common school Logic. and without such Sheet or Mantle. where it is hollow. but at best that of practical Reason’ proceeding by large Intuition over whole systematic groups and kingdoms. a noble complexity. or chaos. almost like that of Nature.” He says in so many words. where the footing is firm substance and will bear us. Teufelsdrockh. or mere cloud. and Old-Roman contempt of the superfluous. of Meditation this grand Theorem is here unfolded. each holding by the skirts of the other. is the true one. or Influences. whereby. or rather like the Sheet of clean and unclean beasts in the Apostle’s Dream. or mount to inane limbos. Our Professor’s method is not.” and again. we shall quit this part of our subject. and innumerable practical Corollaries are drawn therefrom. of survey and conquest. “Society sails through the Infinitude on Cloth. that Man’s earthly interests “are all hooked and buttoned together. which treats of their Wirken. by Clothes. no less than to expound the moral. as on a Faust’s Mantle. discussing merely the Werden (Origin and successive Improvement) of Clothes. and held up. even religious Influences of Clothes. in any case. he undertakes to make manifest. political. reigns in 37 CHAPTER VIII THE WORLD OUT OF CLOTHES If in the Descriptive-Historical portion of this Volume. and in either case be no more. in venturing upon which. for here properly the higher and new Philosophy of Clothes commences: all untried. has astonished many a reader. how difficult. “Society is founded upon Cloth. affecting by its singularity.” By what chains. almost inconceivable region.Thomas Carlyle With which picture of a State of Nature. it were perhaps a mad ambition to attempt exhibiting. we might say. yet how unspeakably important is it to know what course. this grand Proposition. or indeed infinitely complected tissues. in its thousand-fold bearings. would sink to endless depths. where the truths all stand in a row. and may engulf us! Teufelsdrockh undertakes .

Readers of any intelligence are once more invited to favor us with their most concentrated attention: let these. yet. for such as have canvas to sail thither?—As exordium to the whole. sweet. 38 “there come seasons. uttered in all tones of jubilee and wail. and lately was not: but Whence? How? Whereto? The answer lies around. and you are alone with the Universe.—the sight reaches forth into the void Deep. wherewith your Existence sits surrounded. “Who am I. and all the living and lifeless integuments (of Society and a Body). and thick-plied tissues of Commerce and Polity. stand here the following long citation:— “With men of a speculative turn. retires into the distance. with its loud trafficking. picked often at wide-enough intervals from the original Volume. in thousand-figured. that a certain ignoble complexity.—some embodied. ergo sum. I am. that we can hope to impart some outline or foreshadow of this Doctrine. a Motion. or spiritual Picture of Nature: a mighty maze. and silently commune with it. Alas. as one mysterious Presence with another. we have to exclaim: Would to Heaven those same Biographical Documents were come! For it seems as if the demonstration lay much in the Author’s individuality. yet awful hours. after intense consideration. meditative. and not till then. pronounce. through the paperhangings. thousandvoiced. and stonewalls. what we must call mere confusion. harmonious Nature: but where is the cunning eye and ear to whom that God-written Apocalypse will yield articulate meaning? We sit as in a boundless Phantasma- . the thing that can say ‘I’ (das Wesen das sich ICH nennt)? The world. written in all colors and motions. Nay we complained above. also. and by significant fragments. but Experience.Sartor Resartus his Philosophy. and carefully collated. visualized Idea in the Eternal Mind? Cogito. At present it is only in local glimpses.” writes Teufelsdrockh. an Appearance. Sure enough. what is this me? A Voice. perhaps whole undiscovered Americas. Whether on the utmost verge of our actual horizon there is not a looming as of Land. and. not without a plan. when in wonder and fear you ask yourself that unanswerable question: Who am I. a promise of new Fortunate Islands. Often. as if it were not Argument that had taught him. was also discernible. this takes us but a little way. as faith whispers. poor Cogitator.

a net quotient. High Air-castles are cunningly built of Words. that the Seer may discern them where they . Nothing can act but where it is: with all my heart. for the faintest star. suspect not. lies not even nearer the verge thereof: sounds and many-colored visions flit round our sense. however. this Somnambulism is what we on Earth call Life. and Aphorisms? Words. are from the first the master-colors of our Dream-grotto. and Systems. but Him. What are your Axioms. confidently given out. no Knowledge will come to lodge. Creation. the remotest century. has not a deeper meditation taught certain of every climate and age. Then. and for ignorance of which he suffers death. the Dead. and mourn for it. say rather. but the Sun that made it lies behind us. how we clutch at shadows as if they were substances. lies before us. The whole is greater than the part: how exceedingly true! Nature abhors a vacuum: how exceedingly false and calumnious! Again. Nevertheless. the Unslumbering. the Words well bedded also in good Logic-mortar. where divisor and dividend are both unknown? What are all your national Wars. boundless. in that strange Dream. wherein. Here. are but superficial terrestrial adhesions to thought. as truly as the floor I stand on? But that same WHERE. as if they knew right hand from left. hidden from us. the worst death. except in rare half-waking moments. yet they only are wise who know that they know nothing. and sanguinary hate-filled Revolutions. that the WHERE and WHEN. words. and Categories. “Pity that all Metaphysics had hitherto proved so inexpressibly unproductive! The secret of Man’s Being is still 39 like the Sphinx’s secret: a riddle that he cannot rede. with its brother WHEN. with their Moscow Retreats. so mysteriously inseparable from all our thoughts. and long for it. only. the Canvas (the warp and woof thereof) whereon all our Dreams and Life-visions are painted. a spiritual. in the genuine sense. we see not. WHERE is it? Be not the slave of Words: is not the Distant. but the Somnambulism of uneasy Sleepers? This Dreaming. says one. and sleep deepest while fancying ourselves most awake! Which of your Philosophical Systems is other than a dream-theorem. while I love it. wherein the most indeed undoubtingly wander. like a glorious Rainbow. whose work both Dream and Dreamer are.Thomas Carlyle goria and Dream-grotto.

beneath. and man-milliner. after all. and ever in the right place. there is no Space and no Time: WE are—we know not what. were but an air-image. with gay variety of color. jeweller. wherein warmth and easiness of fit have reached perfection. it strikes me. our ME the only reality: and Nature.’ Of twenty millions that have read and spouted this thunder-speech of the Erdgeist. so likewise Time. and the noble creature is his own sempster and weaver and spinner. nay his own boot-maker. nay. thou too wilt find that Space is but a mode of our human Sense. an everlasting Now? Think well. as existing in a universal HERE. he bounds free through the valleys.—lightsparkles floating in the ether of Deity! “So that this so solid-seeming World. Work and weave in endless motion! Birth and Death. in Action’s storm. An infinite ocean. the ‘phantasy of our Dream. I walk and work. when wearied and fordone with these high speculations. the . A seizing and giving The fire of Living: 40 ’Tis thus at the roaring Loom of Time I ply. And weave for God the Garment thou seest Him by. the graces also have been considered. with its thousand-fold production and destruction. While I—good Heaven!— have thatched myself over with the dead fleeces of sheep. but the reflex of our own inward Force. are not wanting. above. that I first came upon the question of Clothes. Strange enough. and frills and fringes.Sartor Resartus mount up out of the celestial EVERYWHERE and FOREVER: have not all nations conceived their God as Omnipresent and Eternal. with a perennial rain-proof court-suit on his body. featly appended. The Horse I ride has his own whole fell: strip him of the girths and flaps and extraneous tags I have fastened round him. are there yet twenty units of us that have learned the meaning thereof? “It was in some such mood. the living visible Garment of God:— “‘In Being’s floods.’ or what the Earth-Spirit in Faust names it. is this same fact of there being Tailors and Tailored.

these considerations. homogeneous little Figure. But indeed man is. and I. get new material to grind down.’ yet also a Spirit. mere use-and-wont ev41 erywhere leads him by the nose. some film of it. Prejudice. and walk abroad a moving Rag-screen. the entrails of worms. O subter-brutish! vile! most vile! For have not I too a compact allenclosing Skin. overheaped with shreds and tatters raked from the Charnel-house of Nature. is his absolute lawgiver. be he goldmantled Prince or russet-jerkined Peasant. you see grazing deliberately with jackets and petticoats (of striped sacking). the hides of oxen or seals. to rot on me more slowly! Day after day. and how. of our Clothesthatch. than to think and consider. whiter or dingier? Am I a botched mass of tailors’ and cobblers’ shreds. thus let but a Rising of the Sun.Thomas Carlyle bark of vegetables. as Swift has it. almost as one feels at those Dutch Cows. the felt of furred beasts. that he is naked. of any country or generation. ‘a forked straddling animal with bandy legs. patent Ratgrinder. and unutterable Mystery of Mysteries. or noticeable. it tailorizes and demoralizes us. that his Vestments and his Self are not one and indivisible. during the wet season. where they would have rotted. and sees indeed that he is naked. let but a Creation of the World happen twice. and was always. a blockhead and dullard. I must thatch myself anew. and it ceases to be marvellous. Nevertheless there is something great in the moment when a man first strips himself of adventitious wrappages. automatic. in the meadows of Gouda. frayed away by tear and wear. which he pretends to hate. much readier to feel and digest. and. must be brushed off into the Ashpit. Perhaps not once in a lifetime does it occur to your ordinary biped. or a tightly articulated. till he buy or steal such. without vestments. then. reaching inwards even to our heart of hearts. nay alive? “Strange enough how creatures of the human-kind shut their eyes to plainest facts. “For my own part. day after day. into the Laystall.” . to be noteworthy. the dust-making. which. this despicable thatch must lose some film of its thickness. and by forethought sew and button them. fill me with a certain horror at myself and mankind. till by degrees the whole has been brushed thither. live at ease in the midst of Wonders and Terrors. and by the mere inertia of Oblivion and Stupidity.

and looking forth into the world in the blankest manner. or altered. slobbery freshman and new-comer in this Planet. which flatters itself that it is the Nineteenth. wherein that strange THEE of thine sat snug. pulpy. thou hast bestrode that “Horse I ride. and overalls and mudboots.” and. was inclined to exclaim: What. or Macaroni. when thou thyself. though it were in wild winter. felted . and as a consequence of Man’s Fall. and destructive both to Superstition and Enthusiasm? Consider. what benefits unspeakable all ages and sexes derive from Clothes. a watery. sattest muling and puking in thy nurse’s arms. as handsel. on first glancing over that singular passage. a Buck. and thy clothes are not for triumph but for defence. Nay. such phenomenon is distinguished? In that one word lie included mysterious volumes. or Dandy. thou foolish Teufelsdrockh. wert not thou. The Editor himself. In vain did the sleet beat round thy temples. and bibs. dashed through the world.Sartor Resartus CHAPTER IX ADAMITISM Let no courteous reader take offence at the opinions broached in the conclusion of the last Chapter. hast thou always worn them perforce. and other nameless hulls? A terror to thyself and mankind! Or hast thou forgotten the day when thou first receivedst breeches. at one period of life. and gave thee. or by whatever name. Again. or Blood. what hadst thou been without thy blankets. never rejoiced in them as in a warm movable House. now when the reign of folly is over. have we got not only a Sansculottist. For example. half buried under shawls and broadbrims. defying all variations of Climate? Girt with thick double-milled kerseys. glorying in it as if thou wert its lord. or Incroyable. silver or copper coins. thy very fingers cased in doeskin and mittens. it lighted only on thy impenetrable. sucking thy coral. a Body round thy Body. in this century. and neighbor after neighbor kissed thy pudding-cheek. according to year and place. 42 and thy long clothes became short? The village where thou livedst was all apprised of the fact. but an enemy to Clothes in the abstract? A new Adamite. on that the first gala-day of thy existence.

striking fire from the highway. case of wool.’ Blue hears with a shudder.Thomas Carlyle or woven. what had thy fleet quadruped been?—Nature is good. has your Teufelsdrockh forgotten what he said lately about “Aboriginal Savages. all short of this thou couldst defy. vibrates his hour. though a Sansculottist. what hadst thou been. A thunderbolt indeed might have pierced thee. and (O wonder of wonders!) marches sorrowfully to the gallows. The utility of Clothes is altogether apparent to him: nay perhaps he has an insight into their more recondite. is there noosed up. “one dressed in fine Red. and the surgeons dissect him. and much perhaps as he might wish to go forth before this degenerate age “as a Sign. do him wrong.— and the storms heap themselves together into one huge Arctic whirlpool: thou flewest through the middle thereof. is no Adamite. courteous reader! The Professor knows full well what he is saying. or what make ye of your Nothing can act but where it is? Red has no physical hold of Blue. the other in coarse threadbare Blue: Red says to Blue.” and go sheeted in a “thick natural fell”? Nowise.” the wreck of matter and the crash of worlds was thy element and propitiously wafting tide. and us betake ourselves again to the “matted cloak. deep calling unto deep. cries the courteous reader. ‘Be hanged and anatomized. and fit his bones into a skeleton for medical purposes. in our haste. what we might call the omnipotent virtue of Clothes. in a state of Nakedness.” he writes. thou too wert as a “sailor of the air.” have they no redeeming value. and both thou and we. can they not be altered to serve better. must they of necessity be thrown to the dogs? The truth is.” would nowise wish to do it. in these times. as those old Adamites did. In vain did the winds howl. Or. and almost mystic qualities. such as was never before vouchsafed to any man. If Clothes. is nowise in contact with him: neither are those ministering Sheriffs and Lord-Lieuten- . How is this.” and their “condition miserable indeed”? Would he have all this unsaid.— forests sounding and creaking. wild music hummed in thy ears. without bit or saddle. Without Clothes. “so tailorize and 43 demoralize us. no clutch of him. For example:— “You see two individuals. but she is not the best: here truly was the victory of Art over Nature. Teufelsdrockh.

that he can tug them hither and thither. as here in . in very Deed. as by some enchanter’s wand. and Dukes. which are the visible emblems of that fact. the reason seems to me twofold: First. with a devilish coolness. and how the ushers and macers and pursuivants are all in waiting. squirrel-skins. thou hadst thought right to keep it secret! Who is there now that can read the five columns of Presentations in his Morning Newspaper without a shudder? Hypochondriac men. secondly. “Often in my atrabiliar moods.—on a sudden. should the buttons all simultaneously start. goes on to draw:— “What would Majesty do. and the solid wool evaporate. Generals. Royal Drawing-rooms. as it is spoken. that Man is a Spirit. Anointed Presence itself. the—shall I speak it?—the Clothes fly off the whole dramatic corps. Nevertheless. in this shattered state of the nerves. Grandees. Has not your Red hangingindividual a horsehair wig. so is it done: the articulated Word sets all hands in Action. and Rope and Improved-drop perform their work. Levees. With what readiness our fancy. whereby all mortals know that he is a JUDGE?—Society. every mother’s son of them. how Duke this is presented by Archduke that. Couchees. when I read of pompous ceremonials. Frankfort Coronations. which the more I think of it astonishes me the more. stand straddling there. Bishops. not a shirt on them. I have. after hesitation. but each stands distinct within his own skin. and all men are to a certain extent hypochondriac. is founded upon Cloth. are advancing gallantly to the Anointed Presence. and a plush-gown. “Thinking reader. to form a clear picture of that solemnity. in my remote privacy. thought right to publish. and miscellaneous Functionaries. should be more gently treated. say we. and innumerable Bishops. Admirals. and Colonel A by General B. 44 and I strive. follows out the consequences which Teufelsdrockh. in which perhaps I am not singular. for the solace of those afflicted with the like. could such an accident befall in reality. and bound by invisible bonds to All Men.Sartor Resartus ants and Hangmen and Tipstaves so related to commanding Red. that he wears Clothes.” Would to Heaven. This physical or psychical infirmity. and I know not whether to laugh or weep.

naked. to a certain royal Immunity and Inviolability. the Opposition Benches—infandum! infandum! And yet why is the thing impossible? Was not every soul. Legislation. the tables (according to Horace). the Ministerial. in that no-fashion. or rather every body. and Civilized Society. as a Clothed Person. or only the maddest? “It will remain to be examined. last night. their high State Tragedy (Haupt. with a stick and red clout. however. had man ever such a “physical or psychical infirmity” before? And now how many. to the market:’ or if some drivers.” “O my Friends. with other similar Radishes. per45 haps. considering his high function (for is not he too a Defender of Property. is not also entitled to benefit of clergy. walk out to St. and there.” adds the inexorable Teufelsdrockh. in wails and howls. the whole fabric of Government. “a forked Radish with a head fantastically carved”? And why might he not. the rattle thereof terrifies the boldest!” . which. which is the worst kind of Farce. of these Guardians of our Liberties. recoils on itself. and will not forward with the picture. and Sovereign armed with the terrors of the Law?). misers and the meaner class of persons are not always voluntarily disposed to grant him. as well as into bed. and with them. even to the sounder British world. and goaded on by Critical and Biographical duty. hold a Bed of Justice? “Solace of those afflicted with the like!” Unhappy Teufelsdrockh. grudge to reimpart) incurably infect therewith! Art thou the malignest of Sansculottists. did our stern fate so order it. Property. we are [in Yorick Sterne’s words] but as ‘turkeys driven. may thy unparalleled confession (which we. “in how far the SCARECROW. as they do in Norfolk. are dissolved.und StaatsAction) becomes a Pickleherring-Farce to weep at.” Lives the man that can figure a naked Duke of Windlestraw addressing a naked House of Lords? Imagination. Police. and English trial by jury: nay perhaps. The Woolsack. take a dried bladder and put peas in it. choked as in mephitic air.Thomas Carlyle Dream? Ach Gott! How each skulks into the nearest hiding-place. or nearly so. Stephen’s.

Society in a state of Nakedness. for most part. turkey-poles. in its brief riveting emphasis. their so unspeakable difference? From Clothes. acknowledging. Polity. livers. as above hinted. the smallest Politeness. are there: examine their spiritual mechanism. nay ten to one but the Carman. without Clothes. have we natural Pouches. is the more cunningly gifted of the two.” To linger among such speculations. and view there the boundless Serbonian Bog of Sansculottism. stretching sour and pestilential: over which we have lightly flown. and other life-tackle. and of the very darkest tinge. or even Police. let him turn to the original Volume. with other branches of wagon-science.” and Chaos were come again: all which to any one that has once fairly pictured out the grand mother-idea.” and the Kings being thrown: “dissect them with scalpels.” Much also we shall omit about confusion of Ranks. a discerning public can have no wish. lights. then. where not only whole armies but whole nations might sink! If indeed the following argument. and how it would be everywhere “Hail fellow well met. who understands draught-cattle. will spontaneously suggest itself. which we make so much of. tissues. we omit about “Kings wrestling naked on the green with Carmen. Whence. is a speculative Radical. the rimming of wheels. and Joan and My Lady. nay actually exists (under the Clothed one).” says Teufelsdrockh.Sartor Resartus CHAPTER X PURE REASON It must now be apparent enough that our Professor. 46 something of the laws of unstable and stable equilibrium. will be sufficient. nothing but so many Cloth-rags. Should some sceptical individual still entertain doubts whether in a world without Clothes. therefore. and has actually put forth his hand and operated on Nature. the same great Need. could we possess the . Much. great Greed. For our purposes the simple fact that such a Naked World is possible. could exist. and “bladders with dried peas. in the solemnities and paraphernalia of civilized Life. be not of itself incontrovertible and final:— “Are we Opossums. like the Kangaroo? Or how. longer than mere Science requires. “the same viscera. and little Faculty.

Deep-hidden is he under that strange Garment. “To the eye of vulgar Logic. a Spirit. and manifold thrums of that unsightly wrong-side. The grand unparalleled peculiarity of Teufelsdrockh is. there lies. contextured in the Loom of Heaven. as it were. as it were. exalts him beyond the visible Heavens. bursts forth. which is perhaps the fundamental element of his nature. free in its celestial primeval brightness. that with all this Descendentalism. with his lips of gold. even here. almost to an equality with the Gods. and dwells with them in UNION and DIVISION. Round his mysterious ME. he dwells not on the obverse alone. whereby if on the one hand he degrade man below most animals.” says he. swathed in. as in our fellow-man?” In such passages. and inextricably overshrouded: yet it is sky-woven. no less superlative. look through? Well said Saint Chrysostom. —there is that within which unspeakably distinguishes him from all other past and present Sansculottists. a purse?” Nevertheless it is impossible to hate Professor Teufelsdrockh. the high Platonic Mysticism of our Author. nay does not the spirit of Love. amid Sounds and Colors and Forms. he combines a Transcendentalism. “what is man? An omnivorous Biped that wears Breeches. tatters. under all those woolrags. at worst. one knows not whether to hate or to love him. with its royal and even sacred figures. with azure Starry Spaces. and long Thousands of Years. though but for moments. to believe. but here chiefly on the reverse. except those jacketed Gouda Cows. and worthy of a God. and divine Apparition. but to our hearts. and true pineal gland of the Body Social: I mean. unhappily too rare. a Garment of Flesh (or of Senses). on the other. in full . whereby he is revealed to his like. For though. in the conflux of Eternities? He feels. and sees and fashions for himself a Universe. Stands he not thereby in the centre of Immensities. which must have sunk him in the estimation of most readers.Thomas Carlyle master-organ. To the eye of Pure 47 Reason what is he? A Soul. power has been given him to know. ‘the true SHEKINAH is Man:’ where else is the GOD’S-PRESENCE manifested not to our eyes only. and indeed turns out the rough seams. in looking at the fair tapestry of human Life. soul’s seat. he. with an almost diabolic patience and indifference.

till they become transparent. insists on the necessity and high worth of universal Wonder. as well as in the poorest Ox-goad and GypsyBlanket.Sartor Resartus flood: and. a more or less incompetent Digestive-apparatus. and official Bank-paper and State-paper Clothes) into the Man himself. “unimaginable formless. the grim coppery clouds soon roll together again. and indeed. in this or the other Dread Potentate. so mean in his exterior and environment. the manifestation of Spirit: were it never so honorable. Such tendency to Mysticism is everywhere traceable in this man. who is the equal and kindly brother of all. it may be. For Matter. but has two meanings: thus. is Spirit. Decay. yet also an inscrutable venerable Mystery. he finds Prose. celestial Invisible. and the Lowest has mounted up. there is in each sort Poetry also. and fleshly. so strange in purport. ‘must station himself in the middle:’ how true! The Philosopher is he to whom the Highest has descended.—though. can it be more? The thing Visible. dark with excess of bright”? Under which point of view the following passage. which he holds to be the only reasonable temper for the denizen of so singular . and a reverend Worth. Nothing that he sees but has more than a common meaning. nay the thing Imagined. on the other hand. if in the highest Imperial Sceptre and CharlemagneMantle. since all was created by God? “Happy he who can look through the Clothes of a Man (the woollen. “Shall we tremble before clothwebs and cobwebs. the thing in any way conceived as Visible.’ says the wisest of this age. whether woven in Arkwright looms. and discern. through all the vapor and tarnish of what is often so perverse. we seem to look into a whole inward Sea of Light and Love. must have been long ago apparent. so strange in phrase. ‘The Philosopher. to attentive readers. he deals much in the feeling of Wonder. as is natural to a man of this kind. seems characteristic enough:— 48 “The beginning of all Wisdom is to look fixedly on Clothes. alas. Contemptibility. what is it but a Garment. or even with armed eyesight. in the meanest Tinker that sees with eyes!” For the rest. a Clothing of the higher. or by the silent Arachnes that weave unrestingly in our Imagination? Or. and hide it from view. what is there that we cannot love. were it never so despicable.

harder or softer. in these days. which is to destroy Wonder.” says he. “Wonder. or even oil-lighted. Above all.” exclaims he. who. though the Sun is shining. much as he otherwise venerates these two latter processes. and cackle. with charitable intent. like true Old-Roman geese and goslings round their Capitol. that class of “Logic-choppers. in successive tilths and wider-spreading harvests. with rattle and lantern. and insist on guiding you and guarding you therewith. bringing food and plenteous increase to all Time. like sowing. and in its stead substitute Mensuration and Numeration. a reign in partibus infidelium. or on none. it is. Codification. and treble-pipe Scoffers. “is the basis of Worship: the reign of wonder is perennial. who does not habitually wonder (and worship). and the street populous with mere justice-loving men:” that whole class is inexpressibly wearisome to him. and (like the Doctor’s in the Arabian Tale) set in a basin to keep it alive. as illuminated Sceptics. as we would fain persuade ourselves. “Shall your Science.” That progress of Science. were it screwed off. finds small favor with Teufelsdrockh. nay who often. dies like 49 cookery with the day that called it forth. and mere Tables of Sines and Tangents. perhaps poisonous. “proceed in the small chink-lighted. and Treatises of what you call Political Economy. in full daylight. for which the Scientific Head (having a Soul in it) is too noble an organ? I mean that Thought without Reverence is barren. does not live. according to ability. walk abroad into peaceable society. yet ever.—but one other of the mechanical and menial handicrafts. indestructible in Man. Hear with what uncommon animation he perorates:— “The man who cannot wonder. underground workshop of Logic alone.” In such wise does Teufelsdrockh deal hits.Thomas Carlyle a Planet as ours. and carried the whole Mecanique Celeste . at best. could prosecute without shadow of a heart. are the Meal? And what is that Science. were he President of innumerable Royal Societies. so numerously patrol as night-constables about the Mechanics’ Institute of Science. for some short season. which the scientific head alone. only at certain stages (as the present). whereof Memory is the Hopper. and man’s mind become an Arithmetical Mill. on any alarm. and professed Enemies to Wonder.

and the epitome of all Laboratories and Observatories with their results.Sartor Resartus and Hegel’s Philosophy. give it up. or do one of two things: Retire into private places with thy foolish cackle. Let those who have Eyes look through him. unfolding itself into new boundless expansions. or even by the hand-lamp of what I call AttorneyLogic. and weep. or believe nothing of it? Nay. when he kicks his foot through it?—Armer Teufel! Doth not thy cow calve. with sniffing charity. gives an Editor enough to do.” CHAPTER XI PROSPECTIVE The Philosophy of Clothes is now to all readers.—he shall be a delirious Mystic. which is everywhere under our feet and among our hands. to whom the Universe is an Oracle and Temple. cries many a timid wayfarer. thou wilt attempt laughter. then he may be useful. ‘account’ for all. as one injured. almost chimerical aspect. doth not thy bull gender? Thou thyself. in his single head. wert thou not born. or. all-pervading domain of Mystery. Is that a real Elysian brightness. yet not without azure loomings in the far distance. like other Mystics. to him thou. of a cloud-capt. and God’s world all disembellished and prosaic. or the yellow-burning marl of a Hell-on-Earth? Our Professor. and shriek. but that thou hitherto art a Dilettante and sand-blind Pedant. wilt protrusively proffer thy hand-lamp. or the reflex of Pandemonian lava? Is it of a truth leading us into beatific Asphodel meadows. the highly questionable purport and promise of which it is becoming more and more important for us to ascertain. “Thou wilt have no Mystery and Mysticism. whether delirious or inspired. whoso recognizes the unfathomable. and ‘explain’ all. as we predicted it would do. wilt thou not die? ‘Explain’ me all this. wilt walk through thy world by the sunshine of what thou callest Truth. as well as a Kitchen and Cattle-stall. what were better.—is but a Pair of Spectacles behind which there is no Eye. 50 not that the reign of wonder is done. and streaks as of an Elysian brightness. Ever higher and .

it is a little ganglion. it is nearing the Tropic of Cancer. commanding. that smithy-fire was (primarily) kindled at the Sun. if thou wilt. not by word. whose iron smoke and influence reach quite through the All. separated! I say there is no such separation: nothing hitherto was ever stranded. and the far stranger Force of Man. works together with all. were it only a withered leaf. cut off from the whole 51 Universe. in the great vital system of Immensity. and one day to be all-commanding. separated speck. without Force.— is it a detached. allcomprehending. more piercing. an unconscious Altar. cast aside. with Iron Force. For example. this of Nature being not an Aggregate but a Whole:— “Well sang the Hebrew Psalmist: ‘If I take the wings of the morning and dwell in the uttermost parts of the Universe. or indissolubly joined to the whole? Thou fool. there are Forces in it and . is fed by air that circulates from before Noah’s Deluge. but a Prosaist. nay preaches forth (exoterically enough) one little textlet from the Gospel of Freedom. therein. already on the wings of the North-wind. are cunning affinities and battles and victories of Force brought about. O cultivated reader. preaches forth the mystery of Force. yet by brain and sinew. The withered leaf is not dead and lost. rests not where it falls. and lives through perpetual metamorphoses. who too probably art no Psalmist. How came it to evaporate. and thou hopest to replace thy lost horse-shoe.’ Thou thyself. shoreless flood of Action. all-confounding are his views and glances. but all. whose iron sacrifice. and Coal Force. and utterly dead? “As I rode through the Schwarzwald. whose dingy Priest. God is there. I said to myself: That little fire which glows star-like across the dark-growing (nachtende) moor. but to-morrow thou findest it swept away. Call it. is borne forward on the bottomless. the Gospel of Man’s Force. and not lie motionless? Thinkest thou there is aught motionless.Thomas Carlyle dizzier are the heights he leads us to. kindled on the bosom of the All. or nervous centre. knowest thou any corner of the world where at least FORCE is not? The drop which thou shakest from thy wet hand. from beyond the Dog-star. knowing GOD only by tradition. “Detached. where the sooty smith bends over his anvil.

the Hand too aid her. like a light-particle. is not there at all: Matter exists only spiritually. the 52 rather if. I said that Imagination wove this FleshGarment. strictly taken. down from Heaven? Thus is he said also to be clothed with a Body. from the King’s mantle downwards. visible Bodies. are emblematic. and his whole terrestrial Life. what. what is Man himself. cast hither. wherein the else invisible creations and inspirations of our Reason are. and does not she? Metaphors are her stuff: examine Language. all Emblematic things are properly Clothes. thought-woven or hand-woven: must not the Imagination weave Garments. and to represent some Idea. a Clothing or visible Garment for that divine ME of his. if you consider it. it should rather be. Language. still fluid and florid. leaving that wondrous Schwarzwald Smithy-Altar. or no longer recognized. what thou seest is not there on its own account. Rightly viewed no meanest object is insignificant. but an Emblem. Nay. not of want only. Hence Clothes. and the like. if you except some few primitive elements (of natural sound).” Again. An unmetaphorical . clothed with Beauty. and (by wool Clothes or otherwise) reveal such even to the outward eye? “Men are properly said to be clothed with Authority. are so unspeakably significant. and first become all-powerful. but of a manifold cunning Victory over Want. as despicable as we think them.—then are Metaphors its muscles and tissues and living integuments. with Curses. Language is the Flesh-Garment. and whither will they sail with us? “All visible things are emblems. recognized as such. the Body. Clothes. what is it all but Metaphors.Sartor Resartus around it. or the litter from which the earth makes Corn. and body it forth. else how could it rot? Despise not the rag from which man makes Paper. of Thought. “Language is called the Garment of Thought: however. like Spirits. as we often see. through which the philosophic eye looks into Infinitude itself. all objects are as windows. what vacant. revealed. though working in inverse order. or now solid-grown and colorless? If those same primitive elements are the osseous fixtures in the Flesh-Garment. On the other hand. high-sailing air-ships are these.

and free of . a mere literary stranger. the Heavens and the Earth shall fade away like a Vesture. Moreover. while others again glow in the flush of health and vigorous self-growth. and perpetual difficulties.Thomas Carlyle style you shall in vain seek for: is not your very Attention a Stretching-to? The difference lies here: some styles are lean. a suit of Raiment. whatsoever represents Spirit to Spirit. but into a vague. but whose honorable courtesy. hunger-bitten and dead-looking. not into the red of morning. which overhanging that same Thought’s-Body (best naked). he must not mention. put on for a season. and to be laid off. that the Editor sees himself journeying and struggling. and tawdry woollen rags: whereof he that runs and reads may gather whole hampers. and miscellaneous tokens of Travel.” Towards these dim infinitely expanded regions.—the bulky Weissnichtwo Packet. is included all that men have thought. By the kindness of a Scottish Hamburg Merchant. Till lately a cheerful daystar of hope hung before him.—and burn them. with all its Custom-house seals. done. sometimes (as in my own case) not without an apoplectic tendency. adust. in the expected Aid of Hofrath Heuschrecke. dreamed. he cannot soon forget. or bolstering it out. and been: the whole External Universe and what it holds is but Clothing. wiry. known to the whole mercantile world. however. superfluous show-cloaks (Putz-Mantel). the muscle itself seems osseous. For the last week. and the essence of all Science lies in the philosophy of clothes. uncertain whether dawn of day or dusk of utter darkness. closebordering on the impalpable Inane. and deceptively bedizening. some are even quite pallid. the Professor continues:— “Why multiply instances? It is written. 53 rightly understood. now and often before spontaneously manifested to him. may be called its false stuffings.” Than which paragraph on Metaphors did the reader ever chance to see a more surprisingly metaphorical? However. whose name. there are sham Metaphors. is properly a Clothing. which indeed they are: the Time-vesture of the Eternal. melts now. these so-called Biographical Documents are in his hand. gray halflight. that is not our chief grievance. Whatsoever sensibly exists. arrived here in perfect safety. Thus in this one pregnant subject of clothes. foreign hieroglyphs. it is not without apprehension. which daystar.

Weissnichtwo politics. in this inquiring age. can attain its significance till the Character itself is known and seen. till. ask yourself. which originates equally in the Character (Gemuth). and looking round. proceeds to remind us of what we knew well already: that however it may be with Metaphysics. alas.. dining repartees. been often thrown down.” adds he.” says the Hofrath. such as this of Clothes pretends to be. dinners. in a too long-winded Letter. or some trick of his. Nay.. The reader shall now fancy with what hot haste it was broken up. Hofrath Heuschrecke. and How?—and rest not. “By this time. as we suspect. ever humanoanecdotical (menschlich-anekdotisch). a complete picture and Genetical History of the Man and his spiritual Endeavor lies before you. and Why. and indeed say we. with an eloquence which. “were the speculative scientific Truth even known.” continues he. mein Verehrtester (my Most Esteemed). are clear: in short till a Biography of him has been philosophico-poetically written. and equally speaks thereto. and philosophico-poetically read. if no better may be. “by this time you are fairly plunged (vertieft) in that mighty forest of ClothesPhilosophy. Fancy 54 have shaped out an answer. that in Weissnichtwo our whole conversation is little or nothing else but Biography or Autobiography. no Life-Philosophy (Lebensphilosophie)..Sartor Resartus cost. since then. unless the words be purloined from Teufelsdrockh. you still. “till the Author’s View of the World (Weltansicht). as all readers do. and other abstract Science originating in the Head (Verstand) alone. and other ephemeral trivialities. and. and again taken up. universally pleasant of all things: especially Biography of distinguished individuals. with astonishment enough. is well-nigh unaccountable. But why. Biography is by nature the most universally profitable. Such portions and passages as you . with what breathless expectation glanced over. Whence came it. and either in the authentic lineaments of Fact. and how he actively and passively came by such view. or the forged ones of Fiction. with what unquiet disappointment it has. “do I dilate on the uses of our Teufelsdrockh’s Biography? The great Herr Minister von Goethe has penetratingly remarked that Man is properly the only object that interests man:’ thus I too have noted. full of compliments.

could not but awaken a strange curiosity touching the mind they issued from. at every stage 55 (for they have let him pass).— good Heaven! how did he comport himself when in Love? By what singular stair-steps. But the whole particulars of his Route. nay thence. and their low harsh moan. the sport of rainy winds? “No. give inarticulate answer? Has he fought duels. has parted with road-companions. clasp a friend’s bosom to his. wear drivel-bibs. if I misreckon not. through America. and subterranean passages. though all regularly jotted down (in indelible sympathetic-ink by an invisible interior Penman). unpublished. which manufactured such matter. more or less footsore and travel-soiled. and emitted it to the light of day. and Traveller from a far Country. looks he also wistfully into the long burialaisle of the Past. in short. through Hindostan. and the antipodal New Holland. by the unexampled favor you stand in with our Sage. at one time. send not a Biography only. has he reached this wonderful prophetic Hebron (a true Old-Clothes Jewry) where he now dwells? “To all these natural questions the voice of public History is as yet silent. unprinted. his Weatherobservations. been poisoned by bad cookery. a Pilgrim. wherefrom.Thomas Carlyle have already mastered. Certain only that he has been. are these nowhere forthcoming? Perhaps quite lost: one other leaf of that mighty Volume (of human Memory) left to fly abroad. and live on spoonmeat? Did he ever. but an Autobiography: at least the materials for such. and to rot. the picturesque Sketches he took. the perhaps unparalleled psychical mechanism. in no wise! I here. and steep Pisgah hills. fallen among thieves. nevertheless. as waste paper. verehrtester Herr Herausgeber. in rapture and tears. where only winds. in place of this same Autobiography with “full- . Had Teufelsdrockh also a father and mother. and brought to paper. did he. blistered with bug-bites. and is. and sloughs of Despair. finally conquer (einnehmen) great part of this terrestrial Planet!” And now let the sympathizing reader judge of our feeling when. has had the Bill to discharge. unbound up. your perspicacity will draw fullest insight: and so the whole Philosophy and Philosopher of Clothes will stand clear to the wondering eyes of England.

“Detached Thoughts on the Steam-engine. or. beginning at Libra. clearly enough. “On receiving the Doctor’s-Hat. oftenest without date of place or time. may be spared.P. wherein the Professor. speaking in the third person. and oftener Shreds and Snips. fly loosely on separate slips. authentic or not. in gilt China-ink. not unimportant Biographical fact. here is perhaps the completest collection extant. yet without connection. and all vituperation of them. so superfluously minute. farther description.Sartor Resartus est insight. they almost remind us of “P.” lie washbills. the airy Limbo which by intermixture will farther volatilize and discompose it! As we shall perhaps see it our duty ultimately to deposit these Six Paper-Bags in the British Museum. in most living tongues. order. In all Bags the same imbroglio. Interspersed also are 56 long purely Autobiographical delineations. Then again. like Sibylline leaves. So that if the Clothes-Volume itself was too like a Chaos. Clerk of this Parish. and marked successively. and treating of all imaginable things under the Zodiac and above it. in the inside of which sealed Bags lie miscellaneous masses of Sheets. and then in the most enigmatic manner. with the symbols of the Six southern Zodiacal Signs. On certain sheets stand Dreams.” is not once named.” we shall meet with some quite private. so unimportant. the confusion a little worse confounded.” Thus does famine of intelligence alternate with waste. calls himself. Biography or Autobiography of Teufelsdrockh there is. amidst what seems to be a Metaphysico-theological Disquisition. without recognizable coherence. Close by a rather eloquent Oration. His Travels are indicated by the Street-Advertisements of the various cities he has visited. appears to be unknown to the Professor. Whole fascicles there are. carefully sealed. but of his own personal history only at rare intervals. marked bezahlt (settled).” or.” we find—Six considerable paper-bags. “the Wanderer. of which Street-Advertisements. as he here. Anecdotes. while the circumjacent waking Actions are omitted. only perhaps in the Bag Capricorn. none to be gleaned . Selection. and those near it. “The continued Possibility of Prophecy. we have now instead of the solar Luminary that should still it. written in Professor Teufelsdrockh’s scarce legible cursiv-schrift.

see his otherwise robust health declining. and down from the 57 simmering air. the first dim rudiments and already-budding germs of a no- . does the Editor. which the fewest are privileged to do? Wild as it looks. undertake such a task as the present Editor. Daily and nightly does the Editor sit (with green spectacles) deciphering these unimaginable Documents from their perplexed cursiv-schrift. did any Pontifex. Only as a gaseous-chaotic Appendix to that aqueous-chaotic Volume can the contents of the Six Bags hover round us. What is the use of health. clutching. his whole Faculty and Self are like to be swallowed up. and portions thereof be incorporated with our delineation of it. can we ever reach its real meaning. on the side of Editor and of Reader. there another. Sin and Death. or of life. by unheard-of efforts. partly of imagination. partly of intellect. while the elements boil beneath: nor is there any supernatural force to do it with. Patiently. which stands in legible print. cold. rise up between them. promises to reveal new-coming Eras. Never perhaps since our first Bridge-builders. but simply the Diligence and feeble thinking Faculty of an English Editor. except indeed planting Thought of your own. is he here struggling (by union of like with like. dismissing all anger. collating them with the almost equally unimaginable Volume. under these incessant toils and agitations. leading. far otherwards than that grand primeval one. which is Method) to build a firm Bridge for British travellers. endeavoring to evolve printed Creation out of a German printed and written Chaos. some fraction of his allotted natural sleep nightly leaving him. moist and dry. For in this Arch too. here one mass. gathering. as he shoots to and fro in it. and little but an inflamed nervoussystem to be looked for. and cunningly cemented.Thomas Carlyle here: at most some sketchy. the materials are to be fished up from the weltering deep. shadowy fugitive likeness of him may. piecing the Why to the fardistant Wherefore. as we humbly presume. this Philosophy of Clothes. Over such a universal medley of high and low. wherein. built that stupendous Arch from Hell-gate to the Earth. of hot. or Pontiff. if not to do some work therewith? And what work nobler than transplanting foreign Thought into the barren domestic soil.

whether of any: so that this Genesis of his can properly be nothing but an Exodus (or transit out of Invisibility into Visibility). we rest not till. Unhappily. for our scientific profit or not. be it towards failure. with regard to any great man. courageous reader. how closely scrutinized soever. so. the former also is not all our own.Sartor Resartus bler Era. indeed. and what manner of Public Entry he made. then. BOOK II CHAPTER I GENESIS I n a psychological point of view. are with utmost completeness rendered manifest. as in every phenomenon the Beginning remains always the most notable moment. we might almost say. To the Genesis of our Clothes-Philosopher. in Universal History. the whole circumstances of his first appearance in this Planet. or towards success! The latter thou sharest with us. uncertain. Is not such a prize worth some striving? Forward with us. much insight is to be gained. Nevertheless. he seems to be of quite obscure extraction. be this First Chapter consecrated. it is perhaps questionable whether from birth and genealogy. whereof the preliminary portion 58 .

won like Desdemona by the deeds rather than the looks of her now veteran Othello. Nay. in the Bag Libra. courage. the grape. lived not without dignity. watched over him and hovered round him as only a true house-mother can: assiduously she cooked and sewed and scoured for him. quitting the halbert and ferule for the spade and pruninghook. or read (as beseemed a regimental Schoolmaster). ‘Schweig Hund (Peace. the apple. and left for dead in the camisade of Hochkirch? The good Gretchen. with other varieties came in their season. looked ever trim and gay: a roomy painted Cottage.Thomas Carlyle is nowhere forthcoming. “In the village of Entepfuhl. and cheerful though now verging towards old age. Andreas had been grenadier Sergeant. on the produce of which he. had been pleased to say. evergreens and honeysuckles.’ would Andreas exclaim: ‘but the smoke of Kunersdorf was 59 still smarting his eyes. yet cannot see over. the housewife. in still seclusion. ‘the womankind will not drill (wer kann die Weiberchen dressiren):’ nevertheless she at heart loved him both for valor and wisdom. that understood Busching’s Geography. to her a Prussian grenadier Sergeant and Regiment’s Schoolmaster was little other than a Cicero and Cid: what you see. embowered in fruit-trees and forest-trees. downrightness (Geradheit). rising many-colored from .” thus writes he. lived not in altogether military subordination. ‘Das nenn’ ich mir einen Konig. Cincinnatus-like.’ “Gretchen. had been in the victory of Rossbach. and talked to neighbors that would listen about the Victory of Rossbach. all which Andreas knew how to sell: on evenings he smoked largely. for all her fretting. where on pegs of honor they hung. “dwelt Andreas Futteral and his wife. which we arrange with difficulty. cultivated a little Orchard. the peach. and how Fritz the Only (der Einzige) had once with his own royal lips spoken to him. but now. was not Andreas in very deed a man of order. and even regimental Schoolmaster under Frederick the Great. hound)!’ before any of his staff-adjutants could answer. on various Papers. as Andreas said. childless. is as good as infinite. for. There is what I call a King. but the whole habitation and environment. when Andreas as campsentinel demanded the pass-word. Fruits. so that not only his old regimental sword and grenadier-cap.

in . He was close-muffled in a wide mantle. hier bringe ein unschatzbares Verleihen. when the Sun. or some visit from an authentic Spirit. take all heed thereof. forever memorable tone. but. and call it his. oder wohl mit schweren Zinsen. overhung with green Persian silk. it was that a Stranger of reverend aspect entered. with grave salutation. Such a Bauergut (Copyhold) had Gretchen given her veteran. one meek yellow evening or dusk. now with lit candle. he had vanished in the thickets. which without farther parley unfolding. had made it what you saw. Neither out of doors could aught of him be seen or heard. Towards this the astonished couple. saying only: Ihr lieben Leute. and before Andreas or his wife. the Stranger gracefully withdrew. that the Futterals could have fancied it all a trick of Imagination. in the dusk. will it one day be required back. the Orchardgate stood quietly closed: the Stranger was gone once and always. no Pitt Diamond or Hapsburg Regalia. hidden indeed from terrestrial Entepfuhl. noiseless. here lies for 60 you an invaluable Loan. Lifting the green veil. hastily turned their attention. ‘Good Christian people. had time to fashion either question or answer. Only that the green-silk Basket. so gentle. nehmt es in aller Acht. and long-disused gardening talent. such as neither Imagination nor authentic Spirits are wont to carry.’ Uttering which singular words. to see what invaluable it hid. they descried there. in all carefulness employ it: with high recompense. whose sinewy arms. “Into this umbrageous Man’s-nest. or else with heavy penalty. gazing in expectant wonder. and.Sartor Resartus amid shaven grass-plots. So sudden had the whole transaction been. still stood visible and tangible on their little parlor-table. flowers struggling in through the very windows. he deposited therefrom what seemed some Basket. wird’s einst zuruckgefordert. in a clear. especially on summer nights. stood before the two rather astonished housemates. sorgfaltigst benutzt es: mit hohem Lohn. amid down and rich white wrappages. in the autumn stillness and twilight. was clean gone. bell-like. under its long projecting eaves nothing but garden-tools in methodic piles (to screen them from rain). a King might have wished to sit and smoke. and seats where. did nevertheless journey visible and radiant along the celestial Balance (Libra).

he. wherein unfortunately nothing but the Name was decipherable. Nowhere in Entepfuhl. nor could the Traveller. full of love and of sadness. except in the way of gratuitous surmise. a little red-colored Infant! Beside it. shut out from me only by thin penetrable cur- . on nursing it.Thomas Carlyle the softest sleep. Meanwhile. and then. in the new University of Weissnichtwo. other document or indication none whatever. as indeed we should think he well might. Ever. also a Taufschein (baptismal certificate). then and always thenceforth. Thou beloved Father. “produced on the boyish heart and fancy a quite indelible impression. to that unknown Father. dost thou still. either way invisible. “To wonder and conjecture was unavailing. as on spirit’s wings. might have taken me to his paternal bosom. The Heavens smiled on their endeavor: thus has that same mysterious Individual ever since had a status for himself 61 in this visible Universe. there to lie screened from many a woe. as Herr Diogenes Teufelsdrockh. has often since struggled within me to shape an answer. some modicum of victual and lodging and parade-ground.” Our Philosopher declares here. lay a roll of gold Friedrichs. did tidings transpire of any such figure as the Stranger. full of longing (sehnsuchtsvoll). who had passed through the neighboring Town in coach-and-four. as in such circumstances charitable prudent people needs must. the new Science of Things in General. might be? An inexpressible desire. by the good Gretchen Futteral. who perhaps far from me. has Fantasy turned. into whiteness. first communicated. they resolved. professes or is ready to profess. faculty and knowledge of good and evil. though with spoonmeat. be connected with this Apparition. glided out again. in my distresses and my loneliness. the exact amount of which was never publicly known. which had to die away without external satisfying. In his twelfth year. and now expanded in bulk. Who this reverend Personage. and if possible into manhood. the grand practical problem was: What to do with this little sleeping red-colored Infant? Amid amazements and curiosities. “that glided into the Orchard Cottage when the Sun was in Libra.” he says. on the morrow or next day. perhaps near. perhaps not altogether without effect. that these facts. for Andreas and his wife.

wend to and fro among the crowd of the living? Or art thou hidden by those far thicker curtains of the Everlasting Night. “The little green veil.Sartor Resartus tains of earthly Space. whom thou namest Father and Mother. still 62 more inseparably the Name. a Father whom thou knowest? The Andreas and Gretchen. but neither in this lay there any clew. and approached him wistfully. what may the unchristian rather than Christian ‘Diogenes’ mean? Did that reverend Basket-bearer intend. or indeed by the worst figure of Misfortune. or the Adam and Eve. to shadow forth my future destiny. by . More than once. or his own present malign humor? Perhaps the latter. heart-deluded. and embroiled discoursing. through which my mortal eye and outstretched arms need not strive to reach? Alas. with infinite regard. and in vain vex myself to know. the name Teufelsdrockh.. Diogenes Teufelsdrockh. O Man born of Woman. Thou illstarred Parent. and for a time suckled and pap-fed thee there. can thy pilgrimage have been a smooth one? Beset by Misfortune thou doubtless hast been.” adds he. these were. “I yet keep. or rather of the Everlasting Day. “wherein is my case peculiar? Hadst thou. like mine. I know not. whom with the bodily eye thou shalt never behold. That it was my unknown Father’s name I must hesitate to believe. “And yet. perhaps both. and through all manner of Subscriber-Lists (Pranumeranten).. in and without the German Empire. with one of his sudden whirls. by such designation. Again. Militia-Rolls. like thousands of others. and other Name-catalogues. he too was not thou. but thy nursing-father and nursing-mother: thy true Beginning and Father is in Heaven. among much similar moralizing. From the veil can nothing be inferred: a piece of now quite faded Persian silk. have I taken for thee this and the other noble-looking Stranger..” cries the Autobiographer. On the Name I have many times meditated and conjectured. To no purpose have I searched through all the Herald’s Books. extraordinary names as we have in Germany. except as appended to my own person. who like an Ostrich hadst to leave thy illstarred offspring to be hatched into self-support by the mere sky-influences of Chance. any more than I. who led thee into Life. but only with the spiritual. but he too had to repel me. nowhere occurs.

feeling. Poetry itself is no other. was not perhaps quite lost in air. spiritual. calamities. there is much. God-attributes. Adam’s first task was giving names to natural Appearances: what is ours still but a continuation of the same. organic. to which it thenceforth cleaves. Often have I fancied how. his How or Whereabout. and he will open the Philosophy of Clothes?” “Meanwhile the incipient Diogenes. and he will steal. was opening his eyes to the kind Light. is well named! Which Appeal and Protest. especially in those plastic first-times. browbeaten and bedevilled by the Time-Spirit (Zeitgeist) in thyself and others. which are the most important of all 63 Clothings. mechanic. still more by his Sixth Sense of Hunger. be his task therein what it might. than a right Naming. as Walter Shandy often insisted. when the whole soul is yet infantine. may I now modestly add. and a whole infinitude of inward. and thou hadst nothing for it but to leave in me an indignant appeal to the Future. and the invisible seedgrain will grow to be an all overshadowing tree! Names? Could I unfold the influence of Names. And now from without. in a word. I were a second greater Trismegistus. what mystic influences does it not send inwards. more tenaciously (for there are Names that have lasted nigh thirty centuries) than the very skin. thou wert shot at. by all his Five Senses. all ignorant of his Why. if thou consider it. soft. in thy hard lifebattle. and slung at. Gods?—In a very plain sense the Proverb says. and living speaking Protest against the Devil. Call one a thief. till the good soul first given thee was seered into grim rage. wounded. thus in . Call one Diogenes Teufelsdrockh. but Science. endeavoring daily to acquire for himself some knowledge of this strange Universe where he had arrived. handfettered. like others. “For indeed. tasting. Infinite was his progress. Not only all common Speech. virtues. even to the centre. The Name is the earliest Garment you wrap round the earth-visiting me. hamstrung. stars. or (as in Poetry) passions. half-awakened Senses. in Names. or starry movements (as in Science). listening. be the Appearances exotic-vegetable. as that same Spirit not of the Time only. nay almost all.Thomas Carlyle Misconduct. sprawling out his ten fingers and toes. but of Time itself. in an almost similar sense may we not perhaps say.

and out of vague Sensation grows Thought. is it not like brooding a fresh (celestial) Egg. He already felt that time was precious. and deep under-currents of roguish whim. ever reach the Entepfuhl Circulating Library. and Timbuctoo itself is not safe from British Literature. The Futterals. the orphan of some sister’s daughter. yet by degrees organic elements and fibres shoot through the watery albumen. or rather young Gneschen. The Professor. like invisible scouts. Heedless of all which. is all the notice we can gather of Herr Teufelsdrockh’s genealogy. he could perform the miracle of— Speech! To breed a fresh Soul. nay Poetries and Religions! “Young Diogenes. Nay. and we have Philosophies. for the present stands pledged in honor. who in a state of extreme senility perhaps still exists. more enigmatic it can seem to few readers than to us. powerless. that kept his mind much to himself. above all. gave out that he was a grandnephew. so we will not doubt him: but seems it not conceivable that. he has himself been deceived? Should these sheets. Dynasties. translated or not. wherein as yet all is formless. travelled forward to those high consummations. may not some Copy find out even the mysterious basketbearing Stranger. suddenly deceased. to avoid vain talk. that seldom or never cried. in Andreas’s distant Prussian birthland. by the “good Gretchen Futteral. in whom truly we more and more discern a certain satirical turn. and gently force even him to disclose himself. permeate the whole habitable globe. as of her indigent sorrowing widower. little enough was known at Entepfuhl. after utmost painful search and collation among these miscellaneous Paper-masses. the Nursling took to his spoon-meat. in whom any father may feel pride? .” or some other perhaps interested party. to claim openly a son. I have heard him noted as a still infant. that he had other work cut out for him than whimpering. More imperfect. for by such diminutive had they in their fondness named him. by quick yet easy stages. some cultivated native of that district might feel called to afford explanation.” 64 Such. and moreover keep the roll of gold Friedrichs safe.Sartor Resartus some fifteen months. and throve. grows Fantasy and Force. of whom. since Books.

Thomas Carlyle

CHAPTER II IDYLLIC
“Happy season of Childhood!” exclaims Teufelsdrockh: “Kind Nature, that art to all a bountiful mother; that visitest the poor man’s hut with auroral radiance; and for thy Nursling hast provided a soft swathing of Love and infinite Hope, wherein he waxes and slumbers, danced round (umgaukelt) by sweetest Dreams! If the paternal Cottage still shuts us in, its roof still screens us; with a Father we have as yet a prophet, priest and king, and an Obedience that makes us free. The young spirit has awakened out of Eternity, and knows not what we mean by Time; as yet Time is no fast-hurrying stream, but a sportful sunlit ocean; years to the child are as ages: ah! the secret of Vicissitude, of that slower or quicker decay and ceaseless downrushing of the universal World-fabric, from the granite mountain to the man or day-moth, is yet unknown; and in a motionless Universe, we taste, what afterwards in this quick-whirling Universe is forever denied us, the balm 65

of Rest. Sleep on, thou fair Child, for thy long rough journey is at hand! A little while, and thou too shalt sleep no more, but thy very dreams shall be mimic battles; thou too, with old Arnauld, wilt have to say in stern patience: ‘Rest? Rest? Shall I not have all Eternity to rest in? ‘ Celestial Nepenthe! though a Pyrrhus conquer empires, and an Alexander sack the world, he finds thee not; and thou hast once fallen gently, of thy own accord, on the eyelids, on the heart of every mother’s child. For as yet, sleep and waking are one: the fair Life-garden rustles infinite around, and everywhere is dewy fragrance, and the budding of Hope; which budding, if in youth, too frostnipt, it grow to flowers, will in manhood yield no fruit, but a prickly, bitter-rinded stone-fruit, of which the fewest can find the kernel.” In such rose-colored light does our Professor, as Poets are wont, look back on his childhood; the historical details of which (to say nothing of much other vague oratorical matter) he accordingly dwells on with an almost wearisome minuteness. We hear of Entepfuhl standing “in trustful derangement” among the woody slopes; the pa-

Sartor Resartus ternal Orchard flanking it as extreme outpost from below; the little Kuhbach gushing kindly by, among beech-rows, through river after river, into the Donau, into the Black Sea, into the Atmosphere and Universe; and how “the brave old Linden,” stretching like a parasol of twenty ells in radius, overtopping all other rows and clumps, towered up from the central Agora and Campus Martius of the Village, like its Sacred Tree; and how the old men sat talking under its shadow (Gneschen often greedily listening), and the wearied laborers reclined, and the unwearied children sported, and the young men and maidens often danced to flute-music. “Glorious summer twilights,” cries Teufelsdrockh, “when the Sun, like a proud Conqueror and Imperial Taskmaster, turned his back, with his gold-purple emblazonry, and all his fireclad bodyguard (of Prismatic Colors); and the tired brickmakers of this clay Earth might steal a little frolic, and those few meek Stars would not tell of them!” Then we have long details of the Weinlesen (Vintage), the Harvest-Home, Christmas, and so forth; with a whole cycle of the Entepfuhl Children’s-games, differing appar66 ently by mere superficial shades from those of other countries. Concerning all which, we shall here, for obvious reasons, say nothing. What cares the world for our as yet miniature Philosopher’s achievements under that “brave old Linden “? Or even where is the use of such practical reflections as the following? “In all the sports of Children, were it only in their wanton breakages and defacements, you shall discern a creative instinct (schaffenden Trieb): the Mankin feels that he is a born Man, that his vocation is to work. The choicest present you can make him is a Tool; be it knife or pen-gun, for construction or for destruction; either way it is for Work, for Change. In gregarious sports of skill or strength, the Boy trains himself to Co-operation, for war or peace, as governor or governed: the little Maid again, provident of her domestic destiny, takes with preference to Dolls.” Perhaps, however, we may give this anecdote, considering who it is that relates it: “My first short-clothes were of yellow serge; or rather, I should say, my first shortcloth, for the vesture was one and indivisible, reaching from neck to ankle, a mere body with four limbs: of which

Thomas Carlyle fashion how little could I then divine the architectural, how much less the moral significance!” More graceful is the following little picture: “On fine evenings I was wont to carry forth my supper (breadcrumb boiled in milk), and eat it out-of-doors. On the coping of the Orchard-wall, which I could reach by climbing, or still more easily if Father Andreas would set up the pruning-ladder, my porringer was placed: there, many a sunset, have I, looking at the distant western Mountains, consumed, not without relish, my evening meal. Those hues of gold and azure, that hush of World’s expectation as Day died, were still a Hebrew Speech for me; nevertheless I was looking at the fair illuminated Letters, and had an eye for their gilding.” With “the little one’s friendship for cattle and poultry” we shall not much intermeddle. It may be that hereby he acquired a “certain deeper sympathy with animated Nature:” but when, we would ask, saw any man, in a collection of Biographical Documents, such a piece as this: “Impressive enough (bedeutungsvoll) was it to hear, in early morning, the Swineherd’s horn; and know that so many 67 hungry happy quadrupeds were, on all sides, starting in hot haste to join him, for breakfast on the Heath. Or to see them at eventide, all marching in again, with short squeak, almost in military order; and each, topographically correct, trotting off in succession to the right or left, through its own lane, to its own dwelling; till old Kunz, at the Village-head, now left alone, blew his last blast, and retired for the night. We are wont to love the Hog chiefly in the form of Ham; yet did not these bristly thick-skinned beings here manifest intelligence, perhaps humor of character; at any rate, a touching, trustful submissiveness to Man,—who, were he but a Swineherd, in darned gabardine, and leather breeches more resembling slate or discolored-tin breeches, is still the Hierarch of this lower world?” It is maintained, by Helvetius and his set, that an infant of genius is quite the same as any other infant, only that certain surprisingly favorable influences accompany him through life, especially through childhood, and expand him, while others lie close-folded and continue dunces. Herein, say they, consists the whole difference between

Sartor Resartus an inspired Prophet and a double-barrelled Game-preserver: the inner man of the one has been fostered into generous development; that of the other, crushed down perhaps by vigor of animal digestion, and the like, has exuded and evaporated, or at best sleeps now irresuscitably stagnant at the bottom of his stomach. “With which opinion,” cries Teufelsdrockh, “I should as soon agree as with this other, that an acorn might, by favorable or unfavorable influences of soil and climate, be nursed into a cabbage, or the cabbage-seed into an oak. “Nevertheless,” continues he, “I too acknowledge the all-but omnipotence of early culture and nurture: hereby we have either a doddered dwarf bush, or a high-towering, wide-shadowing tree; either a sick yellow cabbage, or an edible luxuriant green one. Of a truth, it is the duty of all men, especially of all philosophers, to note down with accuracy the characteristic circumstances of their Education, what furthered, what hindered, what in any way modified it: to which duty, nowadays so pressing for many a German Autobiographer, I also zealously address myself.”—Thou rogue! Is it by short clothes of yellow serge, 68 and swineherd horns, that an infant of genius is educated? And yet, as usual, it ever remains doubtful whether he is laughing in his sleeve at these Autobiographical times of ours, or writing from the abundance of his own fond ineptitude. For he continues: “If among the ever-streaming currents of Sights, Hearings, Feelings for Pain or Pleasure, whereby, as in a Magic Hall, young Gneschen went about environed, I might venture to select and specify, perhaps these following were also of the number: “Doubtless, as childish sports call forth Intellect, Activity, so the young creature’s Imagination was stirred up, and a Historical tendency given him by the narrative habits of Father Andreas; who, with his battle-reminiscences, and gray austere yet hearty patriarchal aspect, could not but appear another Ulysses and ‘much-enduring Man.’ Eagerly I hung upon his tales, when listening neighbors enlivened the hearth; from these perils and these travels, wild and far almost as Hades itself, a dim world of Adventure expanded itself within me. Incalculable also was the knowledge I acquired in standing by the Old Men under the Linden-tree: the whole of Immensity was yet new to

as Biography to which I also. loud. this simple Entepfuhl road. which. It was then that. will lead you to the end of the World! “Why mention our Swallows. yet southwards visibly at eventide. and swashing to and fro. loud-laughing. from the heart loved them. bedizened and beribanded. nay. who taught you the mason-craft. and had not these reverend seniors. for happiness. truly. threading their way over seas and mountains. your House fell. almost social police? For if. and bred. of a World. by ill chance. assembling from all the four winds. “In a like sense worked the Postwagen (Stage-coach). came the elements of an unspeakable hurry-burly. that it came on made highways. might contribute. talkative enough. with animated. which. one day. by hand and tongue. complete it again before nightfall? “But undoubtedly the grand summary of Entepfuhl child’s culture. weaving them like a monstrous shuttle into closer and closer union. from far cities towards far cities. who came for dancing. Nut-brown maids and nut-brown men. for treating. I chiefly. gave you a masonic incorporation. slow-rolling under its mountains of men and luggage. rising and setting by mere Law of Nature.Thomas Carlyle me. was the annual Cattle-fair. independently of Schiller’s Wilhelm Tell. have I not seen five neighborly Helpers appear next day. snug-lodged in our Cottage Lobby? The hospitable Father (for cleanliness’ sake) had fixed a little bracket plumb under their nest: there they built. Not till my eighth year did I reflect that this Postwagen could be other than some terrestrial Moon. 69 corporate cities and belligerent nations. as I learned. and caught flies. been employed in partial surveys thereof for nigh fourscore years? With amazement I began to discover that Entepfuhl stood in the middle of a Country. Bright. and if possible. in the dead of night. all clear-washed. . and when time pressed. stranger still. yearly found themselves with the month of May. like the heavenly one. wended through our Village: northwards. longdrawn chirpings. out of far Africa. nimble creatures. Here. and all. I made this not quite insignificant reflection (so true also in spiritual things): Any road. and twittered. that there was such a thing as History. where as in a funnel its manifold influences were concentrated and simultaneously poured down on us. and activity almost super-hirundine.

nay ever waxing broader and broader. a particolored Merry-Andrew. with their crockery in fair rows. out of which. and threatened to engulf me in final night. come down from Heaven into the Earth. leather skull-caps. happy he for whom a kind heavenly Sun brightens it into a ring of Duty.Sartor Resartus Topbooted Graziers from the North. to teach by charming. vaulted. so you have an eye to read it? For Gneschen. that even then my felicity was perfect. also topbooted. . detachments of the Wiener Schub (Offscourings of Vienna) vociferously superintending games of chance. Among the rainbow colors that glowed on my horizon. Swiss Brokers. yet ever. I were but a vain dreamer to say. Showmen from the Lago Maggiore. till in after-years it almost overshadowed my whole canopy. in booths that to me seemed richer than Ormuz bazaars. as yet no thicker than a thread.—did the Child sit and learn. whereby 70 in aftertime he was to syllable and partly read the grand Volume of the World: what matters it whether such Alphabet be in large gilt letters or in small ungilt ones. waited on by the four golden Seasons. Italian Drovers. and high over all. Nurnberg Pedlers. cheap New Wine (heuriger) flowed like water. yet always it reappeared. these with their subalterns in leather jerkins. as in Prospero’s Island. still worse confounding the confusion. shouting in half-articulate speech. wonder after wonder bodied itself forth. from the South. the very act of looking thereon was a blessedness that gilded all: his existence was a bright. I had. soft element of Joy. its snow-storms and Christmas-carols. it is there. “Nevertheless. Apart stood Potters from far Saxony. once for all. and long ox-goads. “Thus encircled by the mystery of Existence. amid the inarticulate barking and bellowing. with their vicissitudes of contribution. Ballad-singers brayed. like the genius of the place and of Life itself. in ground-and-lofty tumbling. under the deep heavenly Firmament. eager to learn. and plays round it with beautiful prismatic diffractions. Auctioneers grew hoarse. and often quite overshone. as basis and as bourn for our whole being. for even grim Winter brought its skating-matches and shootingmatches. lay even in childhood a dark ring of Care. These things were the Alphabet. It was the ring of Necessity whereby we are all begirt.

If good Passivity alone. Let me not quarrel with my upbringing. it was well-meant.Thomas Carlyle “For the first few years of our terrestrial Apprenticeship. things went not so well. wherein whoso will not bend must break: too early and too thoroughly we cannot be trained to know that Would. Obedience is our universal duty and destiny. whereby every deficiency was helped. compressively secluded. it was loving. My Active Power (Thatkraft) was unfavorably hemmed in. it was beyond measure safer to err by excess than by defect. where the litter of children’s sports is hateful enough. In all that respects openness of Sense. everywhere a strait bond of Obedience inflexibly held me down. “In which habituation to Obedience. for as such I must ever love the good Gretchen. but. of the stem from which all noble fruit must grow? Above all. are set down mostly to look about us over the workshop. your training is too stoical. too frugal. I was forbid much: wishes in any measure bold I had to renounce. then was my early position favorable beyond the most. we have not much work to do. yet more like a parade-duty. is as mere zero to Should. in this world of ours. and not good Passivity and good Activity together. boarded and lodged gratis. however. for which he in the . and can handle this and that. affectionate Temper. It was rigorous. My kind Mother. so that my tears flowed. truly. nay of Morality itself. and at seasons the Child itself might taste that root of bitterness. her own simple version of the Christian Faith. and see others work. every way unscientific: yet in that very strictness and domestic solitude might there not lie the root of deeper earnestness. wherewith the 71 whole fruitage of our life is mingled and tempered. did me one altogether invaluable service: she taught me. and for most part as the smallest of fractions even to Shall. were the thing wanted. honest. and the fostering of these. what more could I have wished? On the other side. less indeed by word than by act and daily reverent look and habitude. how unskilful soever. Hereby was laid for me the basis of worldly Discretion. Andreas too attended Church. rather to bear and forbear than to make and do. Thus already Freewill often came in painful collision with Necessity. ingenuous Curiosity. of which misfortune how many traces yet abide with me! In an orderly house. till we have understood the tools a little.

with a true woman’s heart. the divinest in man. yet only some half of the Man stands in the Child. even among the weedy entanglements of Evil! The highest whom I knew on Earth I here saw bowed down. with awe unspeakable. in his indivisible case of yellow serge. and much to his mind. The more impatient are we to discover what figure he cuts in this latter capacity. How indestructibly the Good grows. springs forth undying from its mean envelopment of Fear. and fine though uncultivated sense. of spiritual pride! CHAPTER III PEDAGOGY Hitherto we see young Gneschen. his Passive endowment. but my Mother. was in the strictest acceptation Religious. the Man may indeed stand pictured in the Boy (at least all the pigments are there). when. accordingly. For with Gneschen. and propagates itself. or a duke’s son that only knew there were two-and-thirty quarters on the family-coach?” To which last question we must answer: Beware. he has received. before a Higher in Heaven: such things. which we doubt not already gleamed with a still intelligence) called upon for little voluntary movement there. how. I trust. especially in infancy. in the terrestrial workshop. reach inwards to the very core of your being.—as. as with others. O Teufelsdrockh.Sartor Resartus other world expected pay with arrears. perhaps it would puzzle Herr Heuschrecke himself to say wherein the special Doctrine of Clothes is as yet foreshadowed or betokened. Hitherto. seated. but (except his soft hazel eyes. that of an incipient Philosopher and Poet in the abstract. mysteriously does a Holy of Holies build itself into visibility in the mysterious deeps. namely. there was a God in Heaven and in Man. to use his own words. his aspect is rather generic. indeed. borne forward mostly on the arms of kind Nature alone. “he understands the tools a 72 . and Reverence. Wouldst thou rather be a peasant’s son that knew. or young Boy. not his Active. were it never so rudely.

and the whole not as dead stuff.” so perhaps had it by nature. yet so spiritual. or even when it has exploded. for the deep-sighted. were it never so unsuccessfully. distinguished his childhood. which depended on Schools. Among the earliest tools of any complicacy which a man. gets to handle. disadvantageous in the hero of a Biography! Now as heretofore it will behoove the Editor of these pages. My Schoolmaster. Teufelsdrockh is oftenest a man without Activity of any kind. especially a man of letters. On this portion of his History. but as living pabulum. good soul. a No-man.” he will proceed to handle it. a down-bent. which. My very copper pocket-money I laid out on stall-literature. By this means was the young head furnished with a considerable miscellany of things and shadows of things: History in authentic fragments lay mingled with Fabulous chimeras. with no free development of the antagonist Activity. did little for me. Here. so much as ascertain its significance. however. above all. and that I must be sent to the Gymnasium. I learned what others learn. For the shallow-sighted. and can handle this or that. as it accumulated. in much of our Philosopher’s history. broken-hearted. that no mortal can foresee its explosions. difficult temper for the modern European. astonishes the world.Thomas Carlyle little. may be the place to state that. there is something of an almost Hindoo character: nay perhaps in that so well-fostered and every way excellent “Passivity” of his. underfoot martyr. we may detect the rudiments of much that. wherein also was reality. Reading he “cannot remember ever to have learned. a man with Activity almost superabundant. Teufelsdrockh looks down professedly as indifferent. are his 73 Class-books. A dangerous. pronounced me a genius. close-hidden. seeing as yet no manner of use in it. to do his endeavor. except discover that he could do little: he. Meanwhile. and kept it stored by in a corner of my head. and still in these present days. and one day to the University. tolerably nutritive for a . again. there need almost no notice be taken. He says generally: “Of the insignificant portion of my Education. what printed thing soever I could meet with I read. as others of that guild are. enigmatic. in after days. which. I with my own hands sewed into volumes. fit for the learned professions.

has lasted and lasts simply with the World. which play such a part in this Philosophy of Clothes? Over his Gymnasic and Academic years the Professor by no means lingers so lyrical and joyful as over his childhood. Green sunny tracts there are still. have many readers of these pages stumbled. doubtless with difficulty.” In which little thought. Well do I still remember the red sunny Whitsuntide morning. as in the Euphrates and the Ganges. and watched it flowing. Indeed. but intersected by bitter rivulets of tears.” writes he. one silent noontide. even as at the mid-day when Caesar.Sartor Resartus mind as yet so peptic. may there not lie the beginning of those well-nigh unutterable meditations on the grandeur and mystery of time. I entered the main street of the place. and its relation to eternity. when. “my evil days began. Thou fool! Nature alone is antique. thoughtful. and saw its steeple-clock (then striking Eight) and Schuldthurm (Jail). which. and the aproned or disaproned Burghers moving in to breakfast: a little dog. trotting full of hope by the side of Father Andreas. was murmuring on across the wilderness. almost poetical. in mad terror. to think how this same streamlet had flowed and gurgled. thus . Eurotas or Siloa. symptoms of a spirit singularly open.—this little Kuhbach. through all changes of weather and of fortune. assiduous as Tiber. too. already in the youthful Gneschen. in their twelfth year. that idle crag thou sittest on is six thousand years of age. gurgling. probably on the morning when Joshua forded Jordan. with all his outward stillness. we now know. here and there stagnating into sour marshes of discontent. from beyond the earliest date of History. as I sat by the Kuhbach. “With my first view of the Hinterschlag Gymnasium. to say nothing of his Suppers on the Orchard-wall. as yet unnamed. unseen: here. 74 with its atmospheric arteries. on such reflections as the following? “It struck me much. swam the Nile. there may have been manifest an inward vivacity that promised much. Thus. as in a little fountain.” That the Entepfuhl Schoolmaster judged well. Yes. was rushing past. is a vein or veinlet of the grand World-circulation of Waters. and the oldest art a mushroom. for some human imps had tied a tin kettle to its tail. yet kept his Commentaries dry. and other phenomena of that earlier period.

” he succeeded ill in battle. and forced if it would live. and. to struggle upwards only.” In all which. into a height quite sickly. till towards his thirteenth year. as would 75 appear. persecuted him: “They were Boys. is here visibly enough again getting nourishment. was indeed not quite unmerited.” he says. which the faster he runs. who does not discern a fine flower-tree and cinnamon-tree (of genius) nigh choked among pumpkins. urges him the faster.” says he. and disproportioned to its breadth? . and obeyed the impulse of rude Nature.” He admits that though “perhaps in an unusual degree morally courageous. as in the World. to whom Fate (wedding Fantasy to Sense.” On the whole. with a stormfulness (Ungestum) under which the boldest quailed. quite orphaned and alone. disposed towards me. and become notable enough. career through the whole length of the Borough. or at least of Mankin. thus was I drawn two ways at once. reed-grass and ignoble shrubs. and on all hands the strong tyrannize over the weak. Only at rare intervals did the young soul burst forth into fire-eyed rage. as it often elsewhere does) has malignantly appended a tin kettle of Ambition. a result. “it was only a shade less disgraceful to have so much as fought. Fit emblem of many a Conquering Hero. which epithet. assert that he too had Rights of Man. and not outwards. and would fain have avoided it. owing less to his small personal stature (for in passionate seasons he was “incredibly nimble”). “He wept often. and in this important element of school-history. the young heart felt. indeed to such a degree that he was nicknamed Der Weinende (the Tearful). harshly. the kind beech-rows of Entepfuhl were hidden in the distance: I was among strangers.Thomas Carlyle did the agonized creature. in that mischievous Den. as is usual. at best indifferently. “mostly rude Boys.” so notable in Teufelsdrockh’s childhood. the duck-flock put to death any broken-winged brother or sister. the war-element. than to his “virtuous principles:” “if it was disgraceful to be beaten. whereof it was a portion and epitome! “Alas.” His schoolfellows. had little but sorrow. to chase him on. loud-jingling. that same excellent “Passivity. the more loudly and more foolishly! Fit emblem also of much that awaited myself. for the first time. which bids the deer-herd fall upon any stricken hart.

and so forth. in whose own inward man there is no live coal. Philosophy. or of boy’s. “were hide-bound Pedants. and called it fostering the growth of mind. that his Greek and Latin were “mechanically” taught. or reduced to hod-bearing. in Hans Wachtel the Cooper’s house.Sartor Resartus We find.” says he. that with Generals and Field-marshals for killing. Indeed. not like a vegetable (by having its roots littered with etymological compost). much more of Mind. no better than not at all. in a subsequent century. Cosmography. and often in the following Bag. 76 mechanical Gerund-grinder. So that. Innumerable dead Vocables (no dead Language. be manufactured at Nurnberg out of wood and leather. Thought kindling itself at the fire of living Thought? How shall he give kindling. it would appear. which grows. where he lodged. moreover. that fashioning the souls of a generation by Knowledge can rank on a level with blowing their bodies to pieces by Gunpowder. among the Craftsmen’s workshops. and not without some touch of what we might presume to be anger. How can an inanimate. and could be acted on through the muscular integument by appliance of birch-rods. as was of old his wont. much else which they called History. so is it everywhere. till the Hodman is discharged. without knowledge of man’s nature. there learning many things. and he himself “went about. he shows himself unusually animated on the matter of Education. not without surprise. Which facts the Professor has not yet learned to look upon with any contentment. so will it ever be. was utterly wasted. the like of whom will. foster the growth of anything. but like a spirit. “My Teachers. and an Architect is hired. but all is burnt out to a dead grammatical cinder? The Hinterschlag Professors knew syntax enough. throughout the whole of this Bag Scorpio. where we now are.” and farther lighted on some small store of curious reading. or of aught save their lexicons and quarterly account-books. and of the human soul thus much: that it had a faculty called Memory. for they themselves knew no Language) they crammed into us. “Alas. and on all hands fitly encouraged: till communities and individuals discover. by mysterious contact of Spirit. except inasmuch as Nature was still busy. there should be world-honored Dignitar- .—his time. Hebrew scarce even mechanically.

with all their innumerable silent nations and generations. My Mother wept. ever close by the gate of which I look upon the hostile armaments. of his natural ability. never! now first showed its meaning. and we shall all meet There. saw himself for the first time clad outwardly in sables. true God-ordained Priests. did the Schoolmaster make show of his instructing-tool: nay. But as yet. the inexorable word. for I have now pitched my tent under a Cypress-tree. and listen to its loudest threatenings with a still smile. and inwardly in quite inexpressible melancholy. dyeing the flinty ground with your blood. in the hottest sunshine. his butchering-tool. would there not. “The dark bottomless Abyss. far as I have travelled. in dark luxuriance. through long years of youth:—as in manhood also it does. with long . the pale kingdoms of Death. rose there to a whole cypress-forest. among the idler class.Thomas Carlyle ies. and pains and penalties of tyrannous Life placidly enough. with not unmelodious sighs. lies a labored Character of the deceased Andreas Futteral. that lies under our feet. but in my heart there lay a whole lake of tears. the Tomb is now my inexpugnable Fortress. pent up in silent desolation. and will do. and Sorrow’s fire-whip. his deserts in life (as Prussian Sergeant). planted down by Memory in my Imagi77 nation. though the Soldier wears openly. cannot thenceforth harm us any more! “ Close by which rather beautiful apostrophe. perhaps a certain levity be excited?” In the third year of this Gymnasic period. and were it possible. waving. and all the Gehenna Bailiffs that patrol and inhabit ever-vexed Time. and Oppression’s harness. Life is so healthful that it even finds nourishment in Death: these stern experiences. and our Mother’s bosom will screen us all. were he to walk abroad with birch girt on thigh. nowhere. and ye. that already sleep in the noiseless Bed of Rest. Nevertheless the unworn Spirit is strong. whom in life I could only weep for and never help. for teaching. stood before him. as if he therefrom expected honor. sad but beautiful. and even parades. Father Andreas seems to have died: the young Scholar.—yet a little while. had yawned open. O ye loved ones. who wide-scattered still toil lonely in the monster-bearing Desert. and her sorrow got vent. otherwise so maltreated.

as through the foliage of some wavering thicket: a youth of no common endow- . and social position. as we at length discover. Such a disclosure. henceforth bewilder the sane Historian. all blown together as if by merest chance. A certain poetic elevation. though how. Sorrow and Wonder. darkly. It only concerns us to add. becomes such a problem as the reader may imagine. having come into historical existence in the way already known to us. my fellows are perhaps not numerous. years. or indeed of any kindred. So much we can see. CollegeExercises. “bereft not only of Possession. so in action. Teufelsdrockh has become a University man. leading sometimes to highest. Professional Testimoniums. “Thus was I doubly orphaned. and the subsequent. much more. and oftener to frightfullest results. here traced back as far as Henry the Fowler: the whole of which we pass over. almost without parallel in a Biographical work.” 78 In the Bag Sagittarius. which in my Life have become remarkable enough? As in birth. Few things. In Sagittarius. sometimes to appearance of an amatory cast.Sartor Resartus historical inquiries into the genealogy of the Futteral Family. in which fixed idea. when. To combine any picture of these University. so chaotic we have always found. these scattered Leaves. So enigmatic. not even the total want of dates. in such a season. could not but produce abundant fruit.” says he. Teufelsdrockh begins to show himself even more than usually Sibylline: fragments of all sorts: scraps of regular Memoir. or of what quality. will nowhere disclose itself with the smallest certainty. yet also a corresponding civic depression. struck its roots through my whole nature: ever till the years of mature manhood. it mingled with my whole thoughts. however. can now surprise our readers. that now was the time when Mother Gretchen revealed to her foster-son that he was not at all of this kindred. Milkscores. in the way of confusion and capricious indistinctness. was as the stem whereon all my day-dreams and night-dreams grew. here suddenly united. not without astonishment. may there not lie the first spring of tendencies. torn Billets. to decipher therein any illustrative primordial elements of the Clothes-Philosophy. it naturally imparted: I was like no other. and must always look to find. Programs. speculation. but even of Remembrance.

must after a time withdraw her willing but too feeble hand. gives out variety of colors. if both leader and led simply— . from tenderness to existing interests and persons. I. It is my painful duty to say that. diligently. in the Bag Scorpio. This is indeed a time when right Education is. aberrations are discoverable or supposable. Nor perhaps are even pecuniary distresses wanting. as he hopes. which name. like strong sunshine in weeping skies. When the blind lead the blind. which are few in number. as poisoned victual may be worse than absolute hunger. and regret anew that there is no more explicit answer. I can conceive a worse system than that of the Nameless itself. How he specially came by it. Thus. may it not sometimes be safer. As if. what character is in him. both shall fall into the ditch: wherefore. in such circumstances. yet never or seldom with his whole heart. Certain 79 of the intelligible and partially significant fragments. out of England and Spain. as if. less happily yet still vigorously through Boyhood. who has passed happily through Childhood. the Humor of that young Soul. ours was the worst of all hitherto discovered Universities. by the living Fountain. however. and I know its name well. thirstily. there to superadd Ideas and Capabilities. from the name Sagittarius.” Nevertheless in an atmosphere of Poverty and manifold Chagrin. some of which are prismatic. shall in nowise divulge.” and set down. shall be extracted from that Limbo of a Paper-bag. for “the good Gretchen. and into so questionable an aspect. and. Teufelsdrockh had not already expectorated his antipedagogic spleen. we here again fall in with such matter as this: “The University where I was educated still stands vivid enough in my remembrance.Thomas Carlyle ment. with the aid of Time and of what Time brings. entanglements. “It is written. and presented with the usual preparation. that we ask with new eagerness. as nearly as may be. first decisively reveals itself. in degrees of wrongness there is no limit: nay. has the stripling Diogenes Teufelsdrockh waxed into manly stature. who in spite of advices from not disinterested relatives has sent him hither. he had thought himself called upon to shoot arrows. impossible: however. discouragements. for the water nowise suits his palate. From such Fountain he draws. now at length perfect in “dead vocables.

the distributions.— you had. Priestcraft. anywhere in Crim Tartary. little as yet has been done: with a strange indifference. walled in a square enclosure. To what extent. all Publics are. from three to seven years: certain persons. If for the present. in manual. had not ranked in Productive Industry at all! Can any one. by what methods. to tumble about as they listed. but in a corrupt European city. being stationed at the gates. full of smoke and sin. and gulled. without far costlier apparatus than that of the Square Enclosure. in Literature and Shoeblacking. education. Kingcraft. circulations. with the smallest approach to accuracy? But to ask. furnished it with a small. we were not in Crim Tartary. some imperfect resemblance of our High Seminary. under the title of Professors. moreover. in the middle of a Public. commercial. and then turned loose into it eleven hundred Christian striplings. “Gullible. and exact considerable admission-fees. so much as say. disbursements. of Quackery. 80 have altogether overlooked the grand all-overtopping Hypocrisy Branch. our Economists. in our Europe. I say. we estimate the ratio of Ware to Appear- . intellectual fabrication of every sort. are realized by actual Instruction and actual jet Polish. in all the several infinitely complected departments of social business. specifying. and the innumerable other crafts and mysteries of that genus. not indeed in mechanical structure. what by fictitious-persuasive Proclamation of such. for example. with the most surprising profit. Deception takes the place of wages of Performance: here truly is an Inquiry big with results for the future time. How far. however. to declare aloud that it was a University. but to which hitherto only the vaguest answer can be given. imperfect. in distinct items. indeed. with what effects. as if our whole arts of Puffery. incomings of said moneys. you could not be sure of gulling. in government. What moneys. how far by the mere Appearance of true Ware:—in other words. in various times and countries. nigh buried under Tables for minor Branches of Industry. for if our mechanical structure was quite other. Towards anything like a Statistics of Imposture. man’s Want is supplied by true Ware. by fit apparatus. ill-chosen Library. which. so neither was our result altogether the same: unhappily. and Declaration aloud.Sartor Resartus sit still? Had you. yet in spirit and result.

—then were it not well could you. and so little can as yet be furnished. as in Education. Happy that it was so.— what almost prodigious saving may there not be anticipated. forage all but exhausted. with a little mechanism. “Besides all this. and man’s Gullibility not his worst blessing. as if by miracle. Prejudice. with this his so omnipotent or rather omnipatient Talent of being Gulled. Which Reputation. and at length becomes all but wholly unnecessary! “This for the coming golden ages. now when I look back on it. for the Millers! They themselves needed not to work. constructed in past times. by a mere Reputation. they might be kept together and 81 quiet? Such perhaps was the aim of Nature. Dark Ages. in the highest degree hostile to Mysticism. Suppose your sinews of war quite broken. and then too with no great effort. almost makes mechanism for itself! These Professors in the Nameless lived with ease. nay. and cut your and each other’s throat. Religion. with safety. “How beautifully it works. who does nothing without aim. with only a little annual re-painting on their part. Polity. pay them in any sort of fairy-money. by quite another class of persons. Russian Autocrat. bade fair. probably Imposture is of sanative. at what they called Educating. that in several provinces. and that the whole army is about to mutiny. to hold long together. where so much is wanted and indispensable. disband. or mere imagination of meat. thus was the young vacant mind furnished with much talk about Progress of the Species. Man. their attempts at working. is probably not far from the mark). till the real supply came up.Thomas Carlyle ance of Ware so high even as at One to a Hundred (which. anodyne nature. I mean your military chest insolvent. sunk into the general current. is. . and the like. in furnishing her favorite. and so the manufacturing of Shams (that of Realities rising into clearer and clearer distinction therefrom) gradually declines. as the Statistics of Imposture advances. whereby. What I had to remark. considering the Wages of a Pope. fill me with a certain mute admiration. for the present brazen one. or English Game-Preserver. feed them on coagulated water. we boasted ourselves a Rational University. and of its own accord assiduously grind for them. like a strong brisk-going undershot wheel.

For man lives in Time. the winter dissolution. Etymology. the summer luxuriance of all Opinions. must the period of Faith alternate with the period of Denial. and only awaken when the loud-roaring hailstorms have all alone their work. has his whole earthly being. “The hungry young. to read fluently in . there will not be wanting some eleven eager to learn. for food. a certain polish was communicated. which latter also I was free to do. If our era is the Era of Unbelief. I succeeded in fishing up more books perhaps than had been known to the very keepers thereof. I indeed learned. Spiritual Representations and Creations. be followed by. it is for the nobler-minded perhaps a comparative misery to have been born. if. the autumnal decay. must the vernal growth. And yet. were bidden eat the east-wind. endeavor and destiny shaped for him by Time: only in the transitory Time-Symbol is the ever-motionless Eternity we stand on made manifest. on my own strength. and again follow. The foundation of a Literary Life was hereby laid: I learned. by instinct and happy accident. Nay from the chaos of that Library.” That in the environment. than to thinking and reading. and to be awake and work. “looked up to their spiritual Nurses. in stupid dreams. the worser sort explode (erepiren) in finished Self-conceit. impotent Scepticism. whereby the better sort had soon to end in sick. why murmur under it. nay come? As in long-drawn systole and long-drawn diastole. What vain jargon of controversial Metaphysic. like hibernating animals. and to our prayers and martyrdoms the new Spring has been vouchsafed. and. in such winter-seasons of Denial. here mysteriously enough shadowed forth. By collision with such. and for the duller a felicity. or other superstitious or voluptuous Castle of Indolence. and mechanical Manipulation falsely named Science. I took less to rioting (renommiren). is there not a better coming.Sartor Resartus so that all were quickly enough blown out into a state of windy argumentativeness. 82 they can slumber through.” he says. better perhaps than the most. safe-lodged in some Salamanca University or Sybaris City. cannot be doubtful. was current there.—But this too is portion of mankind’s lot. Teufelsdrockh must have felt ill at ease. a certain warmth. and to all spiritual intents become dead. Among eleven hundred Christian youths.

was as yet a Machine! However. on almost all subjects and sciences. Nevertheless a desert this was. the truest I had. under the nightmare. he has cast himself before the All-seeing. yet here so poor in means. want of practical guidance. as man is ever the prime object to man. recognized groundplan. and as yet with more of bitter vapor than of clear flame? . and by additional experiments might be corrected and indefinitely extended. vacant Hades and extinct Pandemonium. want of money.” Thus from poverty does the strong educe nobler wealth. now when I look back on it.—do we not see a strong incipient spirit oppressed and overloaded from without and from within. is to arise on us. farther. and with new healing under its wings. Teufelsdrockh gives us long details of his “fever-paroxysms of Doubt. waste. But through such Purgatory pain. such a conscious. and all this in the fervid season of youth. “it is appointed us to pass. and with audible prayers cried ve83 hemently for Light. physical and spiritual. and unspeakable agonies. for deliverance from Death and the Grave. freed from this its charnel-house. still darker in his heart than over sky and earth. already it was my favorite employment to read character in speculation.” continues he. want of sympathy. seemingly severe enough. wondrous enough.” his Inquiries concerning Miracles. the fire of genius struggling up among fuel-wood of the greenest. so boundless in desires. so exaggerated in imagining. if the living Spirit of Religion. if we add a liberal measure of Earthly distresses. sink into spell-bound sleep. and how “in the silent night-watches. Unbelief. mistake God’s fair living world for a pallid. and drop piecemeal into dust. newborn of Heaven. Not till after long years. that of Self-help. and the Evidences of religious Faith. and from the Writing to construe the Writer. first must the dead Letter of Religion own itself dead.Thomas Carlyle almost all cultivated languages.” To which Purgatory pains. did the believing heart surrender. and howling with savage monsters. was beginning to be there. in this hagridden dream. A certain groundplan of Human Nature and Life began to fashion itself in me. want of hope. and. thus in the destitution of the wild desert does our young Ishmael acquire for himself the highest of all possessions. for my whole Universe.

the world has since seen him a public graduate. in the almost frantic hope of perfecting his studies. retiring as he was. the reader for himself weaving it in at the right place.Sartor Resartus From various fragments of Letters and other documentary scraps. it is to be inferred that Teufelsdrockh. as it is perhaps better written. but with few other attributes of manhood. Invited doubtless by the presence of the Zahdarm Family. perhaps also something of the partiality with which I have ever since regarded that singular people. unspeakably ill-cultivated. for he knew nothing except Boxing and a little Grammar. or. have at least their eyes on him. than for most part belongs to Travellers of his nation. to be addressing himself to the Profession of Law. bating his total ignorance. and therewith. ‘and in the inside Vacancy. by his means. with considerable 84 humor of character: and. he had travelled hither. showed less of that aristocratic impassivity. we were to be turned out into the world. though in dreary enough humor. no longer existed! Often we would condole over the hard destiny of the Young in this era: how. with beards on our chins indeed. ‘How has our head on the outside a polished Hat. Towgood was not without an eye. conclude our dim arras-picture of these University years. from the interior parts of England. But omitting these broken. no existing thing that we were trained to Act on. could he have come at any light. he. isolated. and silent fury. with all friendliness. Towgood had a fair talent. He stood connected. Herr Toughgut. not to say the effort after it. to which noble Family I likewise was. shy. after all our toil. let us present rather the following small thread of Moral relation. To him I owe my first practical knowledge of the English and their ways. had not altogether escaped notice: certain established men are aware of his existence. if stretching out no helpful hand. indeed. He appears. nothing that we could so much as Believe. or a . in this quarter of Germany.— whereof. hither to a University where so much as the notion of perfection. unsatisfactory thrums of Economical relation. with the Counts von Zahdarm. whose studies had as yet been those of infancy. and. “Here also it was that I formed acquaintance with Herr Towgood. by blood and hospitality.’ would Towgood exclaim. a young person of quality (von Adel). brought near.

I understood the new time. in trampling on thistles because they have yielded us no figs. and here as elsewhere have cast away chimeras. a kind of Stomach. and Utilitarian Philosophy. and been his brother once and always. under certain conditions. What henceforth becomes of the brave Herr Towgood. with its strange scaffolding. would endow a considerable Hospital of Incurables. what else is the true meaning of Spiritual Union but an Eating together? Thus we. make not bad worse. this little incipient romance. where all at once harlequins dance.” So ends. and its wants. are Dinner-guests. and taken him to my bosom. however. and even fire.’—’Man. and enigmatically. foolish Heathen that I was. and men are beheaded and quartered: motley. were it even partly by stealth. Does any reader “in the interior parts of England” know of such a man? .’ I would answer. these were perhaps my most genial hours. ‘has a Digestive Faculty. I could have loved this man. strong-headed and wrong-headed Herr Towgood I was even near experiencing the now obso85 lete sentiment of Friendship. I felt that. as in the Finnish Language.Thomas Carlyle froth of Vocables and Attorney-Logic! At a small cost men are educated to make leather into shoes. Towards this young warm-hearted. but at a great cost. not unterrific was the aspect. instead of Friends. But as for our Miseducation. or Toughgut? He has dived under. and swims we see not where. We looked out on Life. abruptly as is usual. what am I educated to make? By Heaven. Brother! what I have already eaten and worn. and we have eyes to look on them: Frisch zu!’ “Often also our talk was gay. By degrees. which must be kept working. indeed. Bruder! Here are Books. and we have brains to read them. For myself. as I came thus far. Frisch zu. waste not the time yet ours. Yes. but we looked on it like brave youths. here is a whole Earth and a whole Heaven. not without brilliancy. in the Autobiographical Chaos. If man’s Soul is indeed.

I. if possible. where he found the opposite? Nay your very Daymoth has capabilities in this kind. and hoodwink and . Industrialism and the Government of the Wisest? Truly a Thinking Man is the worst enemy the Prince of Darkness can have. belonging to that mystery. and how it makes and unmakes whole worlds. for Feudalism and Preservation of the Game. the grand thaumaturgic art of Thought! Thaumaturgic I name it.Sartor Resartus CHAPTER IV GETTING UNDER WAY “Thus nevertheless. and. preparing us. I shall forbear mention: but cannot the dullest hear Steamengines clanking around him? Has he not seen the Scottish Brass-smith’s idea (and this but a mechanical one) travelling on fire-wings round the Cape. in some small degree. occupying some cubic feet of Space. and of mute dead air makes living music. hopes. Of the Poet’s and Prophet’s inspired Message. Diogenes Teufelsdrockh: a visible Temporary Figure (Zeitbild). witness some. and ever organizes something (into its own Body. and across two Oceans. which was before Inorganic. though only of the faintest. there runs a shudder through the Nether Empire. a Man. passions. 86 who has learned. with his spade. against the great Empire of Darkness: does not the very Ditcher and Delver. on all hands unweariedly fetching and carrying: at home. and stronger than any other Enchanter’s Familiar. namely. and so leave a little Order. by humming. by indirect but sure methods. the whole wondrous furniture. every time such a one announces himself. to. but rapidly enough overturning the whole old system of Society. with new tactics. if no otherwise). apparently as quitting College. and new Emissaries are trained. thoughts. and containing within it Forces both physical and spiritual. or begun learning. and henceforth innumerable will be wrought. not only weaving Cloth. in more or less perfection. “was there realized Somewhat.” writes our Autobiographer. extinguish many a thistle and puddle. even in these days. one whose capabilities are spiritual. I doubt not. entrap him. for hitherto all Miracles have been wrought thereby. Capabilities there were in me to give battle. whereof we. “How much more.

been called. as exasperated striplings of threescore-and-ten. whereby. Indentures and Apprenticeships for our irrational young. many so spend their whole term. till the purblind Youth. “With such high vocation had I too. a certain maximum of Capability. But the hardest problem were ever this first: To find by study of yourself. they shift into their last enterprise. to grope which is ours. however. and from side to side: till at length. we are foolish. we go stupidly groping about. as denizen of the Universe. or even to get eye on!” By which last wire-drawn similitude does Teufelsdrockh mean no more than that young men find obstacles in what we call “getting under way”? “Not what I Have. would be the general fate. “but what I Do is my Kingdom. your coronation-ceremony costs such trouble.Thomas Carlyle handcuff him. and in ever-new expectation. in a whole imbroglio of Capabilities. For on this ground. ever-new disappointment. by practice. what your combined inward and outward Capability specially is. For. “Such. as the prompt nature of Hunger is well known. must a prompt choice be made: hence have we. but is by its nature original. a certain outward Environment of Fortune. or Devil. that of getting buried. that though born to the amplest Sovereignty. shift from enterprise to enterprise. nay what is worse than all. to each. and of the ground you stand on. bashful. To each is given a certain inward Talent. with no less than sovereign right of Peace and War against the TimePrince (Zeitfurst). by wisest combination of these two. with wise foresight. and often clutch the wrong one: in this mad work must several years of our small term be spent. we are poor.” continues he. and we see not yet which is the main and true one. in due . alas. his course 87 can be the fac-simile of no prior one. our young soul is all budding with Capabilities. Unhappy it is. and become a seeing Man. in this way. since the most of us are too ophthalmic. unfriended. your sceptre is so difficult to get at. And then how seldom will the outward Capability fit the inward: though talented wonderfully enough. dyspeptical. and all his Dominions. Nay. under new conditions. were it not that one thing saves us: our Hunger. acquire notions of distance. Always too the new man is in a new time. Thus.

must rush to and fro. in the words of Ancient Pistol. since the spiritual artist too is born blind. and high though still temper. but far later. the Bread-artist can travel contentedly round and round. the historical embodiment of which. after thousand attempts and endurances. or. he. and realize much: for himself victual. not indeed into luxuriant and luxurious clover. clears his way. he must stand. and had nigh throttled me. only that it proved a neck-halter. and so thenceforth work. whereby his previous want of . is not without sweetness. significantly foreshadowed. “breaks off his neck-halter.Sartor Resartus season. circling like the gin-horse. In a word. till at last.” 88 We see here.—is it not well that there should be what we call Professions. lies scattered. as I would and could. preappointed us? Here.” and bounds forth. with much or with little waste of Capability as it may be. which. the vague universality of a Man shall find himself ready-moulded into a specific Craftsman. did the world generally become mine oyster. Teufelsdrockh having thrown up his legal Profession. yet into a certain bosky wilderness where existence is still possible. into the wide world. leaping against sheer stone-walls. the spirit of much that was to befall our Autobiographer. till I broke it off. and those that follow. that of time. like a young mettled colt. but to him they are forbidden pasture: either pining in progressive starvation. still fancying that it is forward and forward. he finds all rigorously fenced in. Nay even in matters spiritual. and does not. as if by miracle. which he cannot leap over. Almost had I deceased (fast war ich umgekommen). and Freedom. like certain other creatures. was to open. finds himself without landmark of outward guidance. receive sight in nine days. though waited on by Scarcity. Richest clover-fields tempt his eye. For me too had such a leading-string been provided. which I. Then. sometimes never. alas. through this Bag Pisces. as it painfully takes shape in his Life. for whom partial or total blindness is no evil. which only lacerate and lame him. by strength or cunning. for the world an additional horse’s power in the grand corn-mill or hemp-mill of Economic Society. in mad exasperation. yet not with the worst waste. or Bread-studies (Brodzwecke). in dim disastrous details. so obstinately did it continue shut. from his peculiar manger. A young man of high talent.

other vitality showed they almost none. for a youth without connections. ever vex and agitate him. we can discern well that it was far from enviable. and deduce therefrom what moral he can. as he emerges from its Nameless University. Necessity urges him on. neither can he. though as yet uncertain whether he himself is cygnet or gosling. indicating a total estrangement on the part of Teufelsdrockh may there not also lurk traces of a bitterness as from wounded vanity? Doubtless these prosaic Auscultators may have sniffed at him. there could not be: already has the young Teufelsdrockh left the other young geese. Friendly communion. “were Auscultators: they dressed. too. is the process of Expectation very hopeful in itself.” what avails it? There is next to no employment to be had. nor for one of his disposition much cheered from without. Perhaps. Neither. No Object and no Rest. to despise him. and tried to hate. Small speculation in those eyes. a Son of Time. in any case. wild passions without solacement. He too must enact that stern Monodrama. and swims apart. that they did glare withal! Sense neither for the high nor for the deep. and digested.” he says. work through to its catastrophe. must front its successive destinies. wild faculties without employment. that he was in some degree forced to break it off.” In which words. how in those days he may have played . save only for the faintest scent of coming Preferment. but is there not also great practical pride.Thomas Carlyle decided Belief. and talked articulate words. and can even boast that the Examen Rigorosum need not have frightened him: but though he is hereby “an Auscultator of respectability. in this Nameless capital. though deep-hidden. let us admit that his “neckhalter” sat nowise easy on him. with his strange ways. only the deeperseated? So shy a man can never have been popular. If we look at the young man’s civic position. and what was much more impossible. Time will not stop. His first Law-Examination he has come through triumphantly. “Great practical method and expertness” he may brag of. “My fellow 89 Auscultators. nor for aught human or divine. or inward guidance. Yet let us be just to him. We figure to ourselves. what little employment he had was performed ill. at best unpleasantly. is frightfully aggravated.

” Be this as it may. the aid derivable is small. to use his own words.Sartor Resartus strange freaks with his independence. tied down by previous promise. other Horn 90 of Plenty. which perhaps throw light on his condition. to keep himself from flying skyward without return. that “there is always life for a living one. and so forth: do not his own words betoken as much? “Like a very young person. From private Tuition. and give him up as “a man of genius” against which procedure he. whereby being often cheated.” How our winged sky-messenger.” we are not without our anxiety. his progress from the passive Auscultatorship. by his wide faculty of Translation. perhaps from the Earth. “the higher did not presuppose the lower. or writer’s name. Good old Gretchen seems to have vanished from the scene. but at best earns bread-and-water wages. those same established men. By degrees. could not also walk post if he resolved on it! But the world is an old woman. in never so many languages and sciences. contrived. among many others. however. indicate that he was not without money. and mistakes any gilt farthing for a gold coin. I imagined it was with Work alone. if not House-holder. like an independent Hearth-holder. “As if.” we must profess ourselves unable to explain. so that “the prompt nature of Hunger being well known. Nevertheless. “that I subsisted is clear. she will thenceforth trust nothing but the common copper. The first has now no date. “does the young Adventurer hitherto suspect in himself any literary gift. paid his way. two little mutilated Notes. in myself and others. and runs to this effect: “The (Inkblot). nowhere flows for him. as if he who can fly into heaven. except upon the principle of our true-hearted. for you find me even now alive. forward the Herr Teufelsdrockh’s . kind old Proverb.” Which fact. cannot. or even of Parsimony. and not also with Folly and Sin. seem to withdraw their countenance. in the mean while. bearing the mark of Settlement. unaccepted as a terrestrial runner. towards any active Assessorship. is evidently of the slowest. once partially inclined to patronize him. but a huge Blot. neither. except by best wishes. but. in these Papers. Certain Landlords’ Bills. Here also occur. that I had been appointed to struggle. loudly protests.” continues he.” says he. and other economic Documents. is not too clear from these Documents.

Thomas Carlyle views on the Assessorship in question; and sees himself under the cruel necessity of forbearing, for the present, what were otherwise his duty and joy, to assist in opening the career for a man of genius, on whom far higher triumphs are yet waiting.” The other is on gilt paper; and interests us like a sort of epistolary mummy now dead, yet which once lived and beneficently worked. We give it in the original: “Herr Teufelsdrockh wird von der Frau Grafinn, auf Donnerstag, zum æsthetischen thee schonstens eingeladen.” Thus, in answer to a cry for solid pudding, whereof there is the most urgent need, comes, epigrammatically enough, the invitation to a wash of quite fluid Æsthetic Tea! How Teufelsdrockh, now at actual hand-grips with Destiny herself, may have comported himself among these Musical and Literary dilettanti of both sexes, like a hungry lion invited to a feast of chickenweed, we can only conjecture. Perhaps in expressive silence, and abstinence: otherwise if the lion, in such case, is to feast at all, it cannot be on the chickenweed, but only on the chickens. For the rest, as this Frau Grafinn dates from the _Zahdarm House_, she 91 can be no other than the Countess and mistress of the same; whose intellectual tendencies, and good-will to Teufelsdrockh, whether on the footing of Herr Towgood, or on his own footing, are hereby manifest. That some sort of relation, indeed, continued, for a time, to connect our Autobiographer, though perhaps feebly enough, with this noble House, we have elsewhere express evidence. Doubtless, if he expected patronage, it was in vain; enough for him if he here obtained occasional glimpses of the great world, from which we at one time fancied him to have been always excluded. “The Zahdarms,” says he, “lived in the soft, sumptuous garniture of Aristocracy; whereto Literature and Art, attracted and attached from without, were to serve as the handsomest fringing. It was to the Gnadigen Frau (her Ladyship) that this latter improvement was due: assiduously she gathered, dexterously she fitted on, what fringing was to be had; lace or cobweb, as the place yielded.” Was Teufelsdrockh also a fringe, of lace or cobweb; or promising to be such? “With his Excellenz (the Count),” continues he, “I have more than once had the honor to converse; chiefly on general affairs, and the

Sartor Resartus aspect of the world, which he, though now past middle life, viewed in no unfavorable light; finding indeed, except the Outrooting of Journalism (die auszurottende Journalistik), little to desiderate therein. On some points, as his Excellenz was not uncholeric, I found it more pleasant to keep silence. Besides, his occupation being that of Owning Land, there might be faculties enough, which, as superfluous for such use, were little developed in him.” That to Teufelsdrockh the aspect of the world was nowise so faultless, and many things besides “the Outrooting of Journalism” might have seemed improvements, we can readily conjecture. With nothing but a barren Auscultatorship from without, and so many mutinous thoughts and wishes from within, his position was no easy one. “The Universe,” he says, “was as a mighty Sphinxriddle, which I knew so little of, yet must rede, or be devoured. In red streaks of unspeakable grandeur, yet also in the blackness of darkness, was Life, to my too-unfurnished Thought, unfolding itself. A strange contradiction lay in me; and I as yet knew not the solution of it; knew not that spiritual music can spring only from discords set 92 in harmony; that but for Evil there were no Good, as victory is only possible by battle.” “I have heard affirmed (surely in jest),” observes he elsewhere, “by not unphilanthropic persons, that it were a real increase of human happiness, could all young men from the age of nineteen be covered under barrels, or rendered otherwise invisible; and there left to follow their lawful studies and callings, till they emerged, sadder and wiser, at the age of twenty-five. With which suggestion, at least as considered in the light of a practical scheme, I need scarcely say that I nowise coincide. Nevertheless it is plausibly urged that, as young ladies (Madchen) are, to mankind, precisely the most delightful in those years; so young gentlemen (Bubchen) do then attain their maximum of detestability. Such gawks (Gecken) are they, and foolish peacocks, and yet with such a vulturous hunger for self-indulgence; so obstinate, obstreperous, vain-glorious; in all senses, so froward and so forward. No mortal’s endeavor or attainment will, in the smallest, content the as yet unendeavoring, unattaining young gentleman; but he could make it all infinitely better, were it worthy of

Thomas Carlyle him. Life everywhere is the most manageable matter, simple as a question in the Rule-of-Three: multiply your second and third term together, divide the product by the first, and your quotient will be the answer,—which you are but an ass if you cannot come at. The booby has not yet found out, by any trial, that, do what one will, there is ever a cursed fraction, oftenest a decimal repeater, and no net integer quotient so much as to be thought of.” In which passage does not there lie an implied confession that Teufelsdrockh himself, besides his outward obstructions, had an inward, still greater, to contend with; namely, a certain temporary, youthful, yet still afflictive derangement of head? Alas, on the former side alone, his case was hard enough. “It continues ever true,” says he, “that Saturn, or Chronos, or what we call time, devours all his Children: only by incessant Running, by incessant Working, may you (for some threescore-and-ten years) escape him; and you too he devours at last. Can any Sovereign, or Holy Alliance of Sovereigns, bid Time stand still; even in thought, shake themselves free of Time? Our whole terrestrial being is based on Time, and built of Time; it is 93 wholly a Movement, a Time-impulse; Time is the author of it, the material of it. Hence also our Whole Duty, which is to move, to work,—in the right direction. Are not our Bodies and our Souls in continual movement, whether we will or not; in a continual Waste, requiring a continual Repair? Utmost satisfaction of our whole outward and inward Wants were but satisfaction for a space of Time; thus, whatso we have done, is done, and for us annihilated, and ever must we go and do anew. O Time-Spirit, how hast thou environed and imprisoned us, and sunk us so deep in thy troublous dim Time-Element, that only in lucid moments can so much as glimpses of our upper Azure Home be revealed to us! Me, however, as a Son of Time, unhappier than some others, was Time threatening to eat quite prematurely; for, strive as I might, there was no good Running, so obstructed was the path, so gyved were the feet.” That is to say, we presume, speaking in the dialect of this lower world, that Teufelsdrockh’s whole duty and necessity was, like other men’s, “to work,—in the right direction,” and that no work was to be had; whereby he became wretched enough. As was natural: with

Sartor Resartus haggard Scarcity threatening him in the distance; and so vehement a soul languishing in restless inaction, and forced thereby, like Sir Hudibras’s sword by rust, “To eat into itself, for lack Of something else to hew and hack;” But on the whole, that same “excellent Passivity,” as it has all along done, is here again vigorously flourishing; in which circumstance may we not trace the beginnings of much that now characterizes our Professor and perhaps, in faint rudiments, the origin of the Clothes-Philosophy itself? Already the attitude he has assumed towards the World is too defensive; not, as would have been desirable, a bold attitude of attack. “So far hitherto,” he says, “as I had mingled with mankind, I was notable, if for anything, for a certain stillness of manner, which, as my friends often rebukingly declared, did but ill express the keen ardor of my feelings. I, in truth, regarded men with an excess both of love and of fear. The mystery of a Person, indeed, is ever divine to him that has a sense for the 94 Godlike. Often, notwithstanding, was I blamed, and by half-strangers hated, for my so-called Hardness (Harte), my Indifferentism towards men; and the seemingly ironic tone I had adopted, as my favorite dialect in conversation. Alas, the panoply of Sarcasm was but as a buckram case, wherein I had striven to envelop myself; that so my own poor Person might live safe there, and in all friendliness, being no longer exasperated by wounds. Sarcasm I now see to be, in general, the language of the Devil; for which reason I have long since as good as renounced it. But how many individuals did I, in those days, provoke into some degree of hostility thereby! An ironic man, with his sly stillness, and ambuscading ways, more especially an ironic young man, from whom it is least expected, may be viewed as a pest to society. Have we not seen persons of weight and name coming forward, with gentlest indifference, to tread such a one out of sight, as an insignificancy and worm, start ceiling-high (balkenhock), and thence fall shattered and supine, to be borne home on shutters, not without indignation, when he proved electric and a torpedo!”

and not unmindful of my own rules. not union. is written on most part of his procedure. of what sort soever. for all practical uses.Thomas Carlyle Alas. PERISCELIDIS. that lapidary inscriptions. NECNON VULTURIS NIGRI EQUES. This fact stands recorded. quite incidentally. . of which Essay the learning and curious penetration are more to be approved of than the spirit. in a certain Discourse on Epitaphs. is “to unite yourself with some one. HAUD SINE TUMULT DEVOLVENS.”—wherein. QUI DUM SUB LUNA AGEBAT. which however. FIMETUM ADSPICE. “I undertook to compose his Epitaph. ZAEHDARMI COMES. produced the following. EX IMPERII CONCILIO. seems to have been paralyzed. as Teufelsdrockh too admits. “By request of that worthy Nobleman’s survivors.” says he. His grand principle is. where the first problem. still remains unengraven. by the death of the “not uncholeric” old Count. Let us add too that. PERQUE SERVOS QUADRUPEDES BIPEDESVE. SI MONUMENTUM QUAERIS. a defect never yet fully visible to myself. QUINQUIES MILLE PERDICES PLUMBO CONFECIT: VARII CIBI CENTUMPONDIA MILLIES CENTENA MILLIA. PER SE. his connection with the Zahdarm Family. should be Historical rather than Lyrical. NUNC A LABORE REQUIESCENTEM OPERA SEQUUNTUR. we may predict. the only important connection he had ever succeeded in forming. there is more than the Latinity that will surprise an English reader: 95 HIC JACET PHILIPPUS ZAEHDARM. POSTREMUM [sub dato]. for an alleged defect of Latinity. how can a man with this devilishness of temper make way for himself in Life. huddled into the present Bag. PRIMUM IN ORBE DEJECIT [sub dato]. VELLERIS AUREI. and with somewhat (sich anzuschliessen)”? Division. in no great length of time. COGNOMINE MAGNUS. among so much else. IN STERCUS PALAM CONVERTIT.

on a course of his own. by all manner of loans and borrowings. still was it not a Fleet. as we forthwith discover. nor Traffic. by 96 mutual guidance. and as it were falsifies and oversets his whole reckoning. “the Universe is majestically unveiling.” writes he once. Strangely enough. Is the pitifullest mortal Person. indifferent to us? Is it not rather our heartfelt wish to be made one with him. nor Commodores pleased thee. “If in youth. a certain Calypso-Island detains him at the very outset. nowhere to the Young Man does this Heaven on Earth so immediately reveal itself as in the Young Maiden. before ever the question once struck him with entire force: For what?—Beym Himmel! For Food and Warmth! And are Food and Warmth nowhere else. each could manifoldly aid the other? How wilt thou sail in unknown seas. that such heavenly attraction.Sartor Resartus CHAPTER V ROMANCE “For long years. think you. first burns out into a flame. baking bricks without stubble. discoverable?— Come of it what might. and everywhere Heaven revealing itself on Earth. it has been so appointed. Nay. Teufelsdrockh is now a man without Profession. as I have often said. for fixed objects. will meet with adventures. . “had the poor Hebrew. in the whole wide Universe. on such a voyage.” writes Teufelsdrockh. as between Negative and Positive. sailing in prescribed track. he desperately steers off. where indeed his leeward. above all. wherein. Unhappy Teufelsdrockh! Though neither Fleet. On the whole. in this strange life of ours. I resolved to try. and for thyself find that shorter Northwest Passage to thy fair Spice-country of a Nowhere?—A solitary rover.” Thus then are we to see him in a new independent capacity. in this Egypt of an Auscultatorship. in combination. a certain orthodox Anthropomorphism connects my Me with all Thees in bonds of Love: but it is in this approximation of the Like and Unlike. with such nautical tactics. Quitting the common Fleet of herring-busses and whalers. though perhaps far from an improved one. by sextant and compass of his own. laggard condition was painful enough. a Person (Personlichkeit) is ever holy to us. painfully toiled.

only the view. who visibly and audibly hovered round him wheresoever he went. when shame is still an impassable celestial barrier. which. the highest in our Earth. like mysterious priestesses. if all-sceptical of Demons and Angels such as the vulgar had once believed in. even by fear. as in a reverberating furnace. our poor Friend. in this case of the Like-Unlike! Here is conceded us the higher mystic possibility of such a union. and they had that religious worship in his thought. to our young Friend all women were holy. and flowerage and foliage of that Garden. unite ourselves to him? But how much more.Thomas Carlyle to unite him to us. is a Tree of Knowledge. and indeed is. as I conjecture. or failing all these. A visible Divinity dwelt in them. should ever win for himself one of these Gracefuls (Holden)—Ach Gott! how could he hope it. in the stately vistas. in their many-colored angel-plumage. all Soul and Form. so lovely. “In every well-conditioned stripling. thus. altogether unspeakable. and the sacred air-cities of Hope have not shrunk into the mean clay-hamlets of Reality. the more fiery that it burnt under cover. the imaginative stripling. if Cherubim and a Flaming Sword divide it from all footsteps of men. “in his secluded way of life. though as yet it was by their mere earthly and trivial name that . whereby man might mount into very Heaven. nevertheless not unvisited by hosts of true Sky-born. Happy season of virtuous youth. his feeling towards the Queens of this Earth was. As yet he but saw them flitting past. cheered by some fairest Eve. should he not have died under it? There was a certain delirious vertigo in the thought. as unfolded between man and woman. flames forth that fire-development of the universal Spiritual Electricity. That he. in the conducting medium of Fantasy. and with his glowing Fantasy. in whose hand was the invisible Jacob’s-ladder. and man. we first emphatically denominate love. and grant him. nor. Perhaps too the whole is but the lovelier. there already blooms a certain prospective Paradise. not the entrance. by admiration. by his nature. wanting. beautiful and awful in the midst thereof.” continues Teufelsdrockh evi97 dently meaning himself. is yet infinite and free! “As for our young Forlorn. “Thus was the young man. or hovering mute and inaccessible on the outskirts of Æsthetic Tea: all of air they were. were heavenly. by gratitude.

in his own figurative style.” so that it rage thenceforth all unchecked among the contiguous combustibles (which were Madness): till of the so fair and manifold internal world of our Diogenes. whereof so many hovered round. or at best. the whole lying in such hot neighborhood. of Irritability. He loved once. we might say. not wisely but too well. But now. which. what a volcanic. and. as stoical and cynical as he now looks. in this our Life-element. through the several stages of a happy Youthful Love. some Angel.Sartor Resartus he named them. kindle no despicable firework. on occasion of the smallest spark. would one day. to blaze up? Neither. and flamed 98 off rocket-wise. did actually burst forth. it afterwards appears.” flit higher. bursting the thin walls of your “reverberating furnace. with explosions more or less Vesuvian.’ and so kindle him. leaving “the outskirts of Æsthetic Tea. should cast any electric glance of kind eyes. some actual Air-maiden. incorporated into tangibility and reality. Without doubt. ‘Thou too mayest love and be loved. if it indeed proved a Firework. it becomes manifest that our philosopher. each growing naturally from the other. as indeed how could it fail? A nature. are sparks anywhere wanting. ready. nay perhaps bursting the heart in pieces (which were Death). And once only: for as your Congreve needs a new case or wrappage for every new rocket. earthquakebringing. had now not a little carbonized tinder. and the young soul relieved with little damage! Happy. so . was heartily and even frantically in Love: here therefore may our old doubts whether his heart were of stone or of flesh give way.—good Heaven. all-consuming fire were probably kindled!” Such a fire. if it did not rather prove a Conflagration and mad Explosion. Happy. painfully lacerating the heart itself. and sulphurous Humor enough. with so much nitre of latent Passion. in the inner man of Herr Diogenes. in successive beautiful bursts of splendor. there remained Nothing. and in the adjacent ones on both sides thereof. till the whole were safely burnt out. saying thereby. if on a soul so circumstanced. close by “a reverberating furnace of Fantasy:” have we not here the components of driest Gunpowder. by electric Promethean glance. or only the “crater of an extinct volcano”! From multifarious Documents in this Bag _Capricornus_.

high-born. To the Professor. aspect? Specially.Thomas Carlyle each human heart can properly exhibit but one Love. the title Blumine. “that the high celestial orbit of Blumine should intersect the low sublunary one of our Forlorn. In more recent years. Was her real name Flora. From amid these confused masses of Eulogy and Elegy. how did they behave in such meeting? To all which questions. beautiful. the “First Love which is infinite” can be followed by no second like unto it. that he.” says our Philosopher. perhaps. would crown with no new myrtle-garland. should fancy the upper Sphere of Light was come down into this nether sphere of Shadows. which celestial pieces he glories to survey in galleries. must be fictitious. on the not too gracious bounty of moneyed relatives. but has lost thought of purchasing.” We seem to gather that she was young. with their mad Petrarchan and Werterean ware lying madly scattered among all sorts of quite extraneous matter. but unhappily dependent and insolvent. and some one’s Cousin. “It was appointed. not unessential in a Biographic work. make noise enough. then? But what was her surname. Martin’s Summer of incipient Dotage. without doubt. his Firework blazes off. or by the arid one of mere . accordingly. if even one. demeans himself. whom the grand-climacteric itself. women are henceforth Pieces of Art. whereby 99 she is here designated. mere Conjecture must for most part return answer. fortune. hazel-eyed. of Celestial Art. with what specialties of successive configuration. But how came “the Wanderer” into her circle? Was it by the humid vehicle of Æsthetic Tea. Small. Psychological readers are not without curiosity to see how Teufelsdrockh in this for him unexampled predicament. is the satisfaction that such can meet with here. For. by what Pre-established Harmony of occurrences did the Lover and the Loved meet one another in so wide a world. and finding himself mistaken. but who would never even flirt. living. as usual. and of high spirit. the Editor of these Sheets was led to regard Teufelsdrockh as a man not only who would never wed. splendor and color. and which means simply Goddess of Flowers. looking in her empyrean eyes. and St. not so much as the fair one’s name can be deciphered. indeed. of what parentage. or had she none? Of what station in Life was she.

overlaid with precious metal. as an ornamental Artist. it was chiefly by Accident. is the Gardenhouse inferior in respectability to the noble Mansion itself.” Scarcely. rose-clusters. “Embowered amid rich foliage. is ushered into the Garden-house. from the wide-opened doors. embossed with its dark-brown frets of crag.Sartor Resartus Business? Was it on the hand of Herr Towgood. and so. in thy serene solitude. were it even an absolved Auscultator. the tablet of his Destiny lay written. over grove and velvet green. officially bearing in his pocket the last Relatio ex Actis he would ever write. all of granite. or spotted by some spreading solitary Tree and its shadow. of the greenest was their sward. “what stranger ever saw thee. massive. in wavy curvature. glittering in the western sunbeams. Beautiful rose up. and perhaps Musical Coffee. who. How came it that the Wanderer advanced thither with such forecasting heart (ahndungsvoll). stately. but must have paused to wonder! Noble Mansion! There stoodest thou. on umbrageous lawns. “Thou fair Waldschloss.” writes our Autobiographer. or of the Gnadige Frau. and the hues and odors of thousand flowers. Well might he pause and gaze. especially for young cynical Nondescripts? To all appearance. To the unconscious Wayfarer thou wert also as an Ammon’s Temple. in front. instead of returning dispirited and athirst to his dusty Town-home. in that glance of his were prophecy and nameless forebodings. might sometimes like to promote flirtation. for we hear of “harps and pure voices making the stillness live. in the Libyan Waste. undulating onwards to the remote Mountain peaks: so bright. by the side of his gay host? Did he feel that to these soft influences his 100 . it would seem. here sat that brave company.” But now let us conjecture that the so presentient Auscultator has handed in his Relatio ex Actis. been invited to a glass of Rhine-wine. for joy and woe. in deep Mountain Amphitheatre. where. fair outlook over blossom and bush. stretching. so mild. where sit the choicest party of dames and cavaliers: if not engaged in AEsthetic Tea. yet in trustful evening conversation. and everywhere the melody of birds and happy creatures: it was all as if man had stolen a shelter from the suit in the bosom-vesture of Summer herself. and the grace of Nature. the slope of thy guardian Hills. like a palace of El Dorado.

far and wide was the fair one heard of. since the heavenly Sun looks into lowest valleys. to mock him. from the censures no less than from the praises. Fate had it in view to try him. almost without reality. as he had from hers. suddenly as at the touch of a Seraph’s wand. O Heaven! how should they so much as once meet together? And now that Rose-goddess sits in the same circle with him. Noblest maiden! whom he bent to. had our friend painted for himself a certain imperious Queen of Hearts. her caprices: from all which vague colorings of Rumor. the agitation mutual. in whose placid veins circulates too little naphtha-fire.Thomas Carlyle hard bosom ought to be shut. but Blumine herself might have aforetime noted the so unnotable. like a star among earthly lights. that light yet so stately form. Herself also he had seen in public places. in body and in soul. Her sphere was too far from his. shading a face where smiles and sunlight played over earnest deeps: but all this he had seen only as a magic vision. his whole soul is roused from its deepest recesses. like the Sea swelling when once near its Moon! With the Wanderer it was even so: as in heavenward gravitation. had our still Friend 101 . and blooming warm Earth-angel. and see whether there were Humor in him? “Next moment he finds himself presented to the party. for him inaccessible. “Often. who knows. there in her modesty. when once brought into neighborhood? Say rather. how should she ever think of him. vague feelings of a whole Past and a whole Future. the light of her eyes has smiled on him. much more enchanting than your mere white Heaven-angels of women. if he speak. and especially by name to—Blumine! Peculiar among all dames and damosels glanced Blumine. once more. that here. yet scarcely dared look at. gathered wonder. then. perhaps. she will hear it! Nay. and all that was painful and that was blissful there. for her gifts. in far less agitating scenes. her graces. are heaving in unquiet eddies within him. “Blumine’s was a name well known to him. for the presence filled him with painful yet sweetest embarrassment. gathered favor for him? Was the attraction. those dark tresses. pole and pole trembling towards contact. from his very gainsayers. dim images. heart swelling in presence of the Queen of Hearts.

in this otherwise so happy meeting. there talked one “Philisitine. he did not sink into swoons. and man feels himself brought near to man.” seems soon after to have withdrawn for the night. How was it. that she rises above it. or be forever hid. radiant with all prismatic hues. into fearlessness and clearness? It was his guiding Genius (Damon) that inspired him. when the soul expands with full freedom. was dominantly pouring forth Philistinism (Philistriositaten.” writes our hero. Always must the Wanderer remember. that the soul first feels herself able to transcend it. in fiery victory. of what sort soever. Gayly in light. whispered it. whereby the monster. such inspiration as is still possible in our late era. little witting what hero was here entering to demolish him! We omit the series of Socratic. graceful aban102 . threatening every moment to become a laugh. The self-secluded unfolds himself in noble thoughts.” It appears. in a safe cover of Silence. “the discomfiture was visibly felt as a benefit by most: but what were all applauses to the glad smile. wherewith Blumine herself repaid the victor? He ventured to address her she answered with attention: nay what if there were a slight tremor in that silver voice. the peculiar home of Truth and Intellect.). how in this case he sat not silent but struck adroitly into the stream of conversation. he must go forth and meet his Destiny.” who even now. or rather Diogenic utterances. in those hours. and borne on newfound wings of victory. one fine thought called forth another: it was one of those rare seasons. glowing words. “Of which dialectic marauder. which thenceforth. “persuaded into silence. even because so rapidly. to the general weariness. with a certain satisfaction and surprise. and shrouded up his tremors and flutterings. Surely. moves so calmly. Show thyself now. but rose into strength. so irresistibly. to speak with an apparent not a real vanity.Sartor Resartus shrunk forcibly together. he may say that he continued to lead. wherein also Fantasy bodies forth form after form. a certain inspiration was imparted him. what if the red glow of evening were hiding a transient blush! “The conversation took a higher tone. then. when trembling to the core of his heart. Thus sometimes it is even when your anxiety becomes transcendental. his soul is as one sea of light. not unhappy in their way. that here. and perhaps of seeming Stolidity. in free.

which are indeed the laws of polite living. which was not contradicted. had melted as into vapor. Inspiration or Insanity. holy was he and happy: the words from those sweetest lips came over him like dew on thirsty grass. as in common Madness. now flowed softly into one another. with the kind stars above them. so likewise must the Day of Man’s Existence decline into dust and darkness.Thomas Carlyle donment. “Love is not altogether a Delirium.” says he elsewhere. and there. whereon thick-streaming influences from both these far 103 . the Blumine’s hand was in his: in the balmy twilight. reminded every one that as this bright day was drawing towards its close. many-tinted. and with all its sick toilings. whereby to move at will the infinite Spiritual. and. by art-magic. like some fair royal champaign. the sovereign and owner of which were Love only. and joyful and mournful noises. he spoke something of meeting again. But in the former case too. sink in the still Eternity. for the burden was rolled from every heart.” Poor Teufelsdrockh! it is clear to demonstration thou art smit: the Queen of Hearts would see a “man of genius” also sigh for her. of the Idea made Real. no longer parted by rigid fences. he pressed gently those small soft fingers. And yet as the light grew more aerial on the mountaintops. the barriers of Ceremony. and the poor claims of Me and Thee. some faint tone of sadness may have breathed through the heart. It is good for us to be here. “To our Friend the hours seemed moments. Fantasy I might call the true Heaven-gate and Hell-gate of man: his sensuous life is but the small temporary stage (Zeitbuhne). which discerning again may be either true or false. either seraphic or demoniac. and it seemed as if they were not hastily. has she bound and spell-bound thee. Such music springs from kind hearts. in that preternatural hour. in a kind environment of place and time. and the shadows fell longer over the valley. I call it rather a discerning of the Infinite in the Finite. “yet has it many points in common therewith. not angrily withdrawn. the friendly talk played round that circle. on the so petty domain of the Actual plants its Archimedes-lever. and Life lay all harmonious. all better feelings in his soul seemed to whisper. it is Fantasy that superadds itself to sight. At parting. in whispers more or less audible.

and by this fairest of Orient Light-bringers must our Friend be blandished. for some eighteenpence a day. like his heart’s sun. all Fire and humid Softness.’ cried he: ‘she the fairest. Pale Doubt fled away to the distance. in proud timidity. do not her dark eyes tell thee. earnest or gay. even as a Star. that for him also unutterable joys had been provided. solitary from men. and the new Apocalypse of Nature enrolled to him. flame-clad. and act tragedy and melodrama. And now. but for Fantasy planets and solar-systems will not suffice. Ah! a little while ago. with a sad indignation. and lapped him into untried balmy Rest. “In free speech. constrained to renounce the fairest hopes of existence. and could not 104 . he had been in the Garden of Eden.Sartor Resartus yet near regions meet visibly. and often with the inarticulate mystic speech of Music: such was the element they now lived in. and verging towards Insanity. as from the Memnon’s Statue struck by the rosy finger of Aurora. for prize of a “high-souled Brunette. sweetest intimations that he also was a man. a very Light-ray incarnate! Was there so much as a fault.’ he could have dispensed with? Was she not to him in very deed a Morning-star. The past. was all a haggard dream. in such a many-tinted. in Town. noblest. Withdrawn. he saw himself. O now! ‘She looks on thee. they met again: “day after day. Life bloomed up with happiness and hope. then.” as if the Earth held but one and not several of these! He says that. and he was yet in all darkness: him what Graceful (Holde) would ever love? Disbelieving all things. in most countries. unearthly music was around him. tears. amid lambent glances. Witness your Pyrrhus conquering the world.” Alas! witness also your Diogenes. laughter. scaling the upper Heaven. a ‘caprice. thou art not despised? The Heaven’s-Messenger! All Heaven’s blessings be hers!’ Thus did soft melodies flow through his heart. within his own fastnesses. yet baited by night-spectres enough. then. tones of an infinite gratitude. Sense can support herself handsomely. Fairest Blumine! And. yet drinking no better red wine than he had before. the poor youth had never learned to believe in himself. the blooming Blumine shone on him. did not her presence bring with it airs from Heaven? As from AEolian Harps in the breath of dawn. radiant Aurora.

it has exploded? A hapless air-navigator. nay into an Action. till it dwindle to a luminous star: but what is there to look longer on. the religion of young hearts was. Let the Philosopher answer this one question: What figure. was a Mrs. or accident of fire. it must be shaped.” shows more philosophy. of what profit were it? We view.” He even appears surprised at the “Duenna Cousin. but never had he named it Love: existence was all a Feeling.” whoever she may have been. The Professor knows not. fast enough into the jaws of the Devil! Suffice it to know that Teufelsdrockh rose into the highest regions of the Empyrean. plunging. How from such inorganic masses. a pretended man.” We. and with what royal splendor it waxes.” than thou. the gay silk Montgolfier start from the ground. from the first. though but “a woman of genius. “in whose meagre hungerbitten philosophy. the captive is alive. not yet shaped into a Thought. fervid bosom the Lovely found determination. Our readers have witnessed the origin of this Love-mania. when she “resigned herself to wed some richer.” before whom lies no prospect of capital. henceforth madder than ever. amid torn parachutes. when once. into a Thought. by a natural 105 . Teufelsdrockh likely to make in polished society? Could she have driven so much as a brass-bound Gig. “how in her soft. or even a simple iron-spring one? Thou foolish “absolved Auscultator. can explain it without necromancy. and rises.” can abide by Feeling alone. faintly approved of. Let no one ask us to unfold the glories of its dominant state. much less the horrors of its almost instantaneous dissolution.” Nevertheless. to cut asunder these so blissful bonds. can even fragments of a living delineation be organized? Besides. is free. with a lively pleasure. even on hest of Necessity. and shoot upwards. for neither Disenchanter nor Disenchantress. cleaving the liquid deeps. mere “Children of Time. sand-bags. even at such distance. as lie in these Bags. If he loved his Disenchantress? Ach Gott! His whole heart and soul and life were hers. will any yet known “religion of young hearts” keep the human kitchen warm? Pshaw! thy divine Blumine.Thomas Carlyle discern it! But lo now! the black walls of his prison melt away. to this day. by natural elasticity. at that period. and confused wreck.

” CHAPTER VI SORROWS OF TEUFELSDROCKH We have long felt that.” The thunder-struck Air-sailor is not wanting to himself in this dread hour: but what avails it? We omit the passionate expostulations. For the rest. there might be channels. since all was vain. matters must often be expected to take a course of their own. their lips were joined. falling. entreaties. tears started to her eyes. “‘Farewell. intricate a nature. what must Teufelsdrockh’s have been. who has been unhappy enough to do the like. in short. rushed into one. he found his Morning-star all dimmed and dusky-red. with a fire-heart. in wild audacity he clasped her to his bosom. then. for example. and hasten to the catastrophe. neither in the joy-storm nor in the woe-storm could you predict his demeanor. To our less philosophical readers. They were to meet no more. with a man like our Professor. she seemed to have been weeping. for his perhaps comparatively insignificant mistress. like two dew-drops. not without sternness. and returned thence in a quick perpendicular one. underwent such agonies and frenzies. And then? Why. their two souls. that in so multiplex. both for admitting and emitting. absent. and for a nonpareil Blumine! We glance merely at the final scene:— “One morning. she looked in his face. for his stung pride helped him. indignations. towards the Abyss. and through the ruins as of a shivered Universe was he falling. no longer a Morningstar.—for the first time and for the last!” Thus was Teufelsdrockh made immortal by a kiss. such as the Psychologist had seldom noted.Sartor Resartus parabolic track. paint it out for himself: considering only that if he. let any feeling reader. the fair creature was silent. and not even an explanation was conceded him. then—”thick curtains of Night rushed over his soul. that on no grand occasion and convulsion. announcing that the Doomsday had dawned! She said. Madam!’ said he. She put her hand in his. Alas. in a tremulous voice. it is now 106 . as rose the immeasurable Crash of Doom. but a troublous skyey Portent.

seemingly legible in the eyes of an Angel. smitings. his own nature is nowise dissolved thereby. in which light doubtless it partly appeared to himself. how with such vivacity of conception. if his sudden bereavement. and perhaps there is now no key extant that will open it.” and begins a perambulation and circumambulation of the terraqueous Globe! Curious it is.Thomas Carlyle clear that the so passionate Teufelsdrockh precipitated through “a shivered Universe” in this extraordinary way. has only one of three things which he can next do: Establish himself in Bedlam. and heard the laughter of Demons. that stoicism in external procedure. stampings. “old business being soon wound up.” adds he. will not love a second time. than he affects to regard it as a thing natural. It was a Calenture. boundless. he combines that wonderful stillness of his. “whereby the Youth saw green Paradise-groves in the waste Ocean-waters: a lying vision. Singular Diogenes! No sooner has that heart-rending occurrence fairly taken place. In the progress towards any of which consummations. lionbellowings of blasphemy and the like. for he saw it. or blow out his brains. he has the goodness to conceal under a 107 . in this matter of the Flower-goddess. when he ceased to see it. begin writing Satanic Poetry. brow-beating (against walls). as we might say. he was rapt away in whirlwinds. above all. had recalled him as out of Death-shadows into celestial Life: but a gleam of Tophet passed over the face of his Angel. breast-beating. for a Teufelsdrockh as we remarked. than the strange casket of a heart springs to again. is talked of as a real Doomsday and Dissolution of Nature. what ragings and despairings soever Teufelsdrockh’s soul was the scene of. like genii enfranchised from their glass vial: but no sooner are your magic appliances withdrawn. yet not wholly a lie. of which there is nothing more to be said. Thus. breakages of furniture. if not arson itself? Nowise so does Teufelsdrockh deport him. indeed. such intensity of feeling. and its hidden things rush out tumultuous. with these unconscionable habits of Exaggeration in speech. do not such readers anticipate extravagance enough. a Blumine by magic appliances has unlocked that shut heart of his. For once. He quietly lifts his Pilgerstab (Pilgrim-staff). “One highest hope.” But what things soever passed in him. but rather is compressed closer.

silent. he wanders. But what thousand other thoughts unite thereto.Sartor Resartus quite opaque cover of Silence. the soul gives unity to whatsoever it looks on with love. for example. His so unlimited Wanderings. glancing one knew not whether with tear-dew or with fierce fire. as some chimneys consume their own smoke. and indeed military 108 . or spoke of the weather and the Journals: only by a transient knitting of those shaggy brows. embosomed among its groves and green natural bulwarks. inaudibly. the fair Town. if it must spout. of its own unity. To consume your own choler. there was not a touch of latent Insanity. internal Unrest seems his sole guidance. Its white steeple is then truly a starward-pointing finger. we will not take upon us to say.— might you have guessed what a Gehenna was within: that a whole Satanic School were spouting. if perhaps the cradle we were rocked in still stands there. he descries lying far below. the chaotic nature of these Paper-bags aggravates our obscurity. and all diminished to a toy-box. wanders. Nevertheless. if the place has to ourselves been the arena of joyous or mournful experiences. is a negative yet no slight virtue. nor one of the commonest in these times. in itself a congeries of houses and huts. that in the strange measure he fell upon.” Doubtless. Quite without note of preparation. We know it well. become for us an individual. are driving their multifarious traffic. there. almost a person. he was meek. where so many souls. and he were “made like unto a wheel. too. when turning some hill-range in his desert road. though inaudibly. by some deep flash of those eyes. toilsome enough. to keep a whole Satanic School spouting. our brave Gneschen collected his dismembered philosophies. are without assigned or perhaps assignable aim. the canopy of blue smoke seems like a sort of Lifebreath: for always. the first mad paroxysm past. thus does the little Dwellingplace of men. if our Loving ones still dwell there. we come upon the following slip: “A peculiar feeling it is that will rise in the Traveller. if our Buried ones there slumber!” Does Teufelsdrockh as the wounded eagle is said to make for its own eyrie. and buttoned himself together. whereof indeed the actual condition of these Documents in Capricornus and Aquarius is no bad emblem. as if that curse of the Prophet had fallen on him. as it were seen and yet unseen.

and then wend elsewhither? Little happier seems to be his next flight: into the wilds of Nature. So at least we incline to interpret the following Notice. which ruggedness. turn as if by instinct in the direction of their birthland. however. hast thou a hope that is not mad? Nevertheless.Thomas Carlyle deserters. for now the Valley closes in abruptly. however. tree-shaded. bright cottages. the gray cliff. or in the original Greek if that suit thee better: ‘Whoso can look on Death will start at no shadows. and huge fragments. along strait passes. can the Son of Time not pretend: still less if some Spectre haunt him from the Past. traversed by torrents. towards his native Entepfuhl. where the streamlet collects itself into a Lake. in this extremity. separated from the former by some considerable space. one may still murmur audibly. and man has again found a fair dwelling. gigantic character. Reasonably might the Wanderer exclaim to himself: Are not the gates of this world’s happiness inexorably shut against thee. but rarely are Mountains seen in such combined majesty and grace as here. intersected by a huge mountain mass. itself covered with lichens. and it seems as if Peace had established herself in the bosom of Strength. is nothing noteworthy:— “Mountains were not new to him. now winding amid broken shaggy chasms. Arrived aloft. is here tempered by a singular airiness of form. Beauty alternates with Grandeur: you ride through stony hollows.’ “From such meditations is the Wanderer’s attention called outwards. and the Future is wholly a Stygian Darkness. and softness of environment: in a climate favorable to vegetation. “To Peace. In fine vicissitude. now suddenly emerging into some emerald valley. spectre-bearing. wherein. which always arrange themselves in masses of a rugged. he finds himself again lifted into the evening 109 . in this vortex of existence. overhung by high walls of rock. the stony water-worn ascent of which is not to be accomplished on horseback. and all hunted outcast creatures. as if in her mother-bosom he would seek healing. however. cluster round the everlasting granite. but reflecting that there no help awaits him. The rocks are of that sort called Primitive by the mineralogists. take only one wistful look from the distance. and white. shoots up through a garment of foliage or verdure.—fly first.

to unite Province with Province. here. was the sudden aspect to our Wanderer. nay solemn. in their solitude. came a gay Barouche-and-four: it was open. to Heaven. No trace of man now visible. scaling the inaccessible. and gaze round him. even as on the night when Noah’s Deluge first dried! Beautiful.Sartor Resartus sunset light. An upland irregular expanse of wold. with the Night. the diadem and centre of the mountain region! A hundred and a hundred savage peaks. behind them. a murmur of Eternity and Immensity.” says 110 . then. and his own spirit were therewith holding communion. as if the Earth were not dead. unless indeed it were he who fashioned that little visible link of Highway. where valleys in complex branchings are suddenly or slowly arranging their descent towards every quarter of the sky. to sink soon into the hidden Southward. almost with longing desire. like giant spirits of the wilderness. and folded together: only the loftier summits look down here and there as on a second plain. and to England. where it stands with quite other intent: “Some time before Small-pox was extirpated. servants and postilions wore wedding favors: that happy pair. onwards. Emerging from the hidden Northward. as would seem. here might be the place to insert an observation. all glowing. and I.” Were it not cruel in these circumstances. lo you! how it towers sheer up. it was their marriage evening! Few moments brought them near: Du Himmel! It was Herr Towgood and—Blumine! With slight unrecognizing salutation they passed me. that she was his Mother and divine. and the Sun had now departed. as if the Spirit of the Earth had its throne in that splendor. The mountain-ranges are beneath your feet. “The spell was broken by a sound of carriage-wheels. I remained alone. never till this hour had he known Nature. in the last light of Day. of Death and of Life. and cannot but pause. stole through his soul. gleaned long ago from the great Clothes-Volume. of gold and amethyst. had found each other. some moments there. in my friend Richter’s words. And as the ruddy glow was fading into clearness in the sky. and he felt as if Death and Life were one. there in their silence. a world of Mountains. But sunwards. plunged down amid the neighboring thickets. He gazed over those stupendous masses with wonder. lakes also lie clear and earnest in their solitude. that she was One.

but chiefly as we enjoy the crystal cup which holds good or bad liquor for us. no man can calculate how or where. with only some touch of direct historical notice sparingly interspersed: little light-islets in the world 111 . as I compute. He glides from country to country. come let us eat the glass! Of which endemic the Jenner is unhappily still to seek. Hopeless is the obscurity. through long years. from condition to condition. or Fortunatus’ Hat. If in any scene. has to stumble about at random. living by the grace of God in some European capital.Thomas Carlyle the Professor. were clear record possible. here first take their permanent character. perhaps difficult to fix geographically. unspeakable the confusion. and apparently through all circles of society. even from afar. Through all quarters of the world he wanders. Foolish were it in us to attempt following him. vanishing and reappearing. that is to say. in this extraordinary world-pilgrimage of his. in dim multifarious tokens (as that collection of Street-Advertisements). was there man found who would say: Come let us make a Description! Having drunk the liquor. Poets of old date. too. being privileged with Senses. would fill volumes. as if our Traveller. wherein. had transported himself by some wishing-carpet. and naturally with more haste than progress. The whole. the simplest record of which. or with slight incidental commentary: never. Let him sink out of sight as Private Scholar (Privatsirender). you may next find him as Hadjee in the neighborhood of Mecca. now endemical. and forms connections. quick-changing. our Friend. That Basiliskglance of the Barouche-and-four seems to have withered up what little remnant of a purpose may have still lurked in him: Life has become wholly a dark labyrinth. had also enjoyed external Nature. imparted emblematically. in silence. he settles for a time. so far as his stoical and cynical envelopment admits us to clear insight. instead of limbs and highways. be sure he will snap them abruptly asunder. of View-hunting. “there came a new malady of the spiritual sort on Europe: I mean the epidemic. It is an inexplicable Phantasmagoria. till after the Sorrows of Werter.” Too true! We reckon it more important to remark that the Professor’s Wanderings. flying from spectres. capricious. fatuous or not.

for there was none. which. nay perhaps suspecting the possible trickeries of a Clothes-Philosopher. Yet forward must I. the Professor undertook and prosecuted this world-pilgrimage. as Sultan Mahmoud. with increasing current. and. if at all. not indeed a spirit. form the limit of our endeavor.” says he. yet only at a great distance. as a mad-foaming cataract. where they can be met with. alone! Ever too the strong inward longing shaped Phantasms for itself: towards these. at all events. those conversations and relations with illustrious Persons. “A nameless Unrest. flies wholly into tumultuous clouds of spray! Low down it indeed collects again into pools and plashes. and with difficulty. Whither should I go? My Loadstars were blotted out.—the answer is more distinct than favorable. If we ask now. For which end doubtless those direct historical Notices. the Professor is more of an enigma than ever. In figurative language. for a chapter or two. will eschew this province for the present. with our present light. For example. and others. to which the outward motion was some momentary lying solace. are the best. “urged me forward. we might say he becomes. To cast a glance into certain of those pools and plashes. a new time may bring new insight and a different duty. Fact unparalleled in Biography: The river of his History. comes into contact with public History itself. the ground burnt under me. which we have traced from its tiniest fountains. of this sort too there occurs much. into the ocean. and hoped to see flow onward.Sartor Resartus of haze! So that. in that canopy of grim fire shone no star. A feeling I had. must I fruitlessly wander. must. I was alone. that for my feverthirst there was and must be somewhere a healing Foun112 . into a general stream. here dashes itself over that terrific Lover’s Leap. not indeed with what ulterior Purpose. in what mood of mind. the Emperor Napoleon. yet spiritualized. are they not as yet rather of a diplomatic character than of a biographic? The Editor. vaporized. one after the other. appreciating the sacredness of crowned heads. there was no rest for the sole of my foot. Teufelsdrockh vibrating everywhere between the highest and the lowest levels. from this point. yet with what immediate outlooks. it were questionable to emit. Nevertheless. and trace whither they run.

Forwards! The winds and the streams. as in the press of corrupt civilization. often as my sole rational companion. That I had my Living to seek saved me from Dying. and a whole Infernal Chase in his rear. religious. and regret to mention that the nourishment it yielded was trifling. commercial departments? In Pagan countries.—by suicide. it can create provision enough for the body (of a Philosopher). as with both hands. how she feeds the sparrow on the house-top. it was ever the same: how could your Wanderer escape from—his own Shadow? Nevertheless still Forward! I felt as if in great haste. In strange countries. a Son of Time. and all Nature sounded to me. once for all. to great Men. From the depths of my own heart. to great Cities. much more her darling. spectres to torment itself withal. create quite other than provision.” Thou foolish Teufelsdrockh How could it else? Hadst thou not Greek enough to understand thus much: The end of Man is an Action. who wiped her earthen kettle with a horse-tail. to great Events: but found there no healing. Forwards! Ach Gott. I was even. namely.” Poor Teufelsdrockh! Flying with Hunger always parallel to him. in the chemical. with water of the Amur. in savage deserts. and not a Thought. the Saints’ Wells of these days.” From which is it not clear that the internal Satanic School was still active enough? He says elsewhere: “The Enchiridion of Epictetus I had ever with me. did I pilgrim. In our busy Europe.Thomas Carlyle tain. as with its little finger. To many fondly imagined Fountains. as in the well-known. is there not an everlasting demand for Intellect. mechanical. it called to me. though it were the noblest? “How I lived?” writes he once: “Friend. man? While thou stirrest and livest. so that the countenance of Hunger is comparatively a friend’s! Thus 113 . hast thou considered the ‘rugged all-nourishing Earth. I have roasted wild eggs in the sand of Sahara.’ as Sophocles well names her. educational. how. I have awakened in Paris Estrapades and Vienna Malzleins. and then. My breakfast of tea has been cooked by a Tartar woman. to do I saw not what. political. cannot one write Fetishes? Living! Little knowest thou what alchemy is in an inventive Soul. thou hast a probability of victual. with no prospect of breakfast beyond elemental liquid.

in these sick days. what is all this but a mad Fer114 . his stagelights are the fires of Conflagration. no doubt but his spiritual nature is nevertheless progressive. in one or the other dialect. wherein our Professor has now shrouded himself.—save only that he feels himself not guilty and but suffering the pains of guilt. since it must be written. must stand idle and despair? Whereby it happens that. in Truths grown obsolete.Sartor Resartus must he. like our Clothes-Philosopher. and growing: for how can the “Son of Time. and he could become a Man.—wend to and fro with aimless speed. even as the great Goethe. wherein whoso will not speak Lies and act Lies. the publishing of some such Work of Art. in an all-too stupendous style. in verse and in prose. in the temper of ancient Cain. becomes almost a necessity. richer than usual in two things. can write such matter. and general solution into aimless Discontinuity. before you begin honestly Fighting him? Your Byron publishes his Sorrows of Lord George. and Trades grown obsolete. with his shoe-soles only. in a state of crisis.—Happier is he who. write his Sorrows of Teufelsdrockh. Vain truly is the hope of your swiftest Runner to escape “from his own Shadow”! Nevertheless. Thus must he. stand still? We behold him. through those dim years. when the Born of Heaven first descries himself (about the age of twenty) in a world such as ours. had to write his Sorrows of Werter. and murder-shrieks of a world.” in any case. For what is it properly but an Altercation with the Devil. for your nobler minds.—what can the fool think but that it is all a Den of Lies. before the spirit freed herself. on the insensible Earth. and also survive the writing thereof! CHAPTER VII THE EVERLASTING NO Under the strange nebulous envelopment. with music of cannon-volleys. over the whole surface of the Earth (by footprints). of transition: his mad Pilgrimings. or of the modern Wandering Jew. in passionate words. his rhyme and recitative are the tramp of embattled Hosts and the sound of falling Cities. and copiously otherwise: your Bonaparte represents his Sorrows of Napoleon Opera.

coruscations of which flash out: as. quite shut out from Hope. but vaguely all round into a dim copper firmament. offered and then snatched away. and even hisses over in a deluge of foam. and then with that poisondrop. must harshly dash off the old one upon rocks. as our Friend has since exhibited himself. nay. indeed. speculative and practical.” says he. though useless.” What. properly speaking. he has no other possession but Hope. the clearer product will one day evolve itself? Such transitions are ever full of pain: thus the Eagle when he moults is sickly. pregnant with earthquake and tornado. was at the very lip. of the Towgood-and-Blumine business. it is clear that there is a hot fever of anarchy and misery raging within. with more justness than originality: “Men is. “shade after shade goes grimly over your soul. nothing granted: till at length. wherefrom the fiercer it is. this world of his is emphatically the Place of Hope. then. that Soul is not synonymous with Stomach. He himself says once. he hides not that. ever since that first “ruddy morning” in the Hinterschlag Gymnasium. in those days. how could there be other? Have we not seen him disappointed. in this wild Pilgrimage. based upon Hope. may affect. in his individual acts and motions. What Stoicism soever our Wanderer. he has now lost all tidings of another and higher. Full of religion. Alas. looking not into the golden orient. on man’s life. for the present. to attain his new beak. essential to the former as Food to Hunger. as he wanders wearisomely through this world. or at least of religiosity. and happily discovered. reasonable Activity. which had been filling drop by drop.Thomas Carlyle mentation. through long years? All that the young heart might desire and pray for has been denied. he was wholly irreligious: “Doubt had darkened into Unbelief. was our Professor’s possession? We see him.” To such readers as have reflected. and. shut out from Hope. Ever an “excellent Passivity. he must forcibly seize for himself an Activity. in a deeper sense than we yet dream of! For. Tartarean black. in contradiction to much Profit-and-Loss Philosophy. unreasonable. bemocked of Destiny. Alas. as in the last worst instance. his cup of bitterness. who 115 . it runs over. till you have the fixed. what can be called reflecting. starless.” but of useful.

whom admiring men have since named Saint. at the outside of his Universe. and seeing it go? Has the word Duty no meaning. in these dull unimaginative days. Unhappy young man! All wounds. and without it. are the terrors of Conscience to the diseases of the Liver! Not on Morality. shouting question after question into the Sibyl116 . but of injustice. had not its life-warmth been withdrawn. “that. let us offer sweet incense to the Devil.’ and Nero of Rome. If what thou namest Happiness be our true aim. as censer. then. Martyrs. can cheerfully endure the shame and the cross. Nay! To the unregenerate Prometheus Vinctus of a man. would have healed again. some bubble of the blood. of emanations from the Gallows and from Doctor Graham’s Celestial-Bed? Happiness of an approving Conscience! Did not Paul of Tarsus. bubbling in the direction others profit by? I know not: only this I know. and live at ease on the fat things he has provided for his Elect!” Thus has the bewildered Wanderer to stand. Faith is properly the one thing needful. feel that he was ‘the chief of sinners. as so many have done. therefore. in his wild way: “Is there no God. let us build our stronghold: there brandishing our frying-pan. is what we call Duty no divine Messenger and Guide. jocund in spirit (wohlgemuth). by suicide. but at best an absentee God. for a pure moral nature. Worldlings puke up their sick existence. in the midst of luxury:” to such it will be clear that. for man’s well-being. it is ever the bitterest aggravation of his wretchedness that he is conscious of Virtue. how. otherwise weak. but a false earthly Phantasm. that he feels himself the victim not of suffering only. With Stupidity and sound Digestion man may front much. made up of Desire and Fear. the loss of his religious Belief was the loss of everything. but on Cookery. the stab of false Friendship and of false Love. ever since the first Sabbath. then are we all astray.Sartor Resartus understand.—I tell thee. with it. sitting idle. What then? Is the heroic inspiration we name Virtue but some Passion. all wounds in thy so genial heart. the crush of long-continued Destitution. spend much of his time in fiddling? Foolish Wordmonger and Motive-grinder. who in thy Logic-mill hast an earthly mechanism for the Godlike itself. and wouldst fain grind me out Virtue from the husks of Pleasure. in our Friend’s words. But what. Well might he exclaim.

with the sick ophthalmia and hallucination they had brought on. “But what boots it (was thut’s)?” cries he: “it is but the common lot in this era. in his silent soul. and His heaven-written Law still stood legible and sacred there. could nowhere see Him.” says he: “after all the nameless woe that Inquiry. and no Pillar of Fire by night. crumble down. Had a divine Messenger from the clouds. in spite of all Motive-grinders. to call our Diogenes wicked. “One circumstance I note. have endured! “The painfullest feeling. the Servant of God. than even now when doubting God’s existence. as I often thought. hate-filled men. this once-fair world of his. To such length has the spirit of Inquiry carried him. nevertheless in my heart He was present. Unprofitable servants as we all are. under all these tribulations. and Mechanical Profit-and-Loss Philosophies. ‘though the Heavens crush me for following her: no Falsehood! though a whole celestial Lubberland were the price of Apostasy. and not being born purely a Loghead (Dummkopf ). sold to Unbelief. or the shrieks of despairing. like thee. The whole world is. with what passionate readiness. if my as yet sealed eyes. had wrought me! I nevertheless still loved Truth. ‘Truth!’ I cried. and men ask now: Where is the Godhead. and temporal and spiritual destitutions. was the Infinite nature of Duty still dimly present to me: living without God in the world. any longer guides the Pilgrim. what must the Wanderer. had it been leaping into the infernal Fire. perhaps at no era of his life was he more decisively the Servant of Goodness. or miraculous Handwriting on the wall. wherein is heard only the howling of wild beasts. of God’s light I was not utterly bereft. and receive no Answer but an Echo.” Meanwhile. was genuine Love of Truth. Not having come to spiritual majority prior to the Siecle de Louis Quinze. thou hadst no other outlook. what it is not always. would I have done it. and no Pillar of Cloud by day. convincingly proclaimed to me This thou shalt do. Thus.” writes 117 . which for long have not been rain-proof. our eyes never saw him?” Pitiful enough were it. their old Temples of the Godhead. with their unspeakable longing. for all these wild utterances.’ In conduct it was the same. which for me.Thomas Carlyle cave of Destiny. It is all a grim Desert. and would bate no jot of my allegiance to her.

as of Enchantment. that they were not merely auto118 . when even to me the Heavens seemed laid open. such even as the most have not. last Faith in myself. “is that of your own Feebleness (Unkraft). as the English Milton says. too. any true bosom I could press trustfully to mine? O Heaven. till it be translated into this partially possible one. Our Works are the mirror wherein the spirit first sees its natural lineaments. been all too cruelly belied? The speculative Mystery of Life grew ever more mysterious to me: neither in the practical Mystery had I made the slightest progress. ever. “But for me. but been everywhere buffeted. practically. foiled. save by what you have prospered in. I seemed to have nothing given me but eyes. and I dared to love. there was none! I kept a lock upon my lips: why should I speak much with that shifting variety of so-called Friends. remain to me insoluble: Hast thou a certain Faculty. so strangely unprosperous had I been. vain and too-hungry souls Friendship was but an incredible tradition? In such cases. even speaking with me. yet.Sartor Resartus he. forgotten that they were alive. when there was as yet no mirror to see it in? Ever did this agitating. Between vague wavering Capability and fixed indubitable Performance. or art thou the completest Dullard of these modern times? Alas. the net-result of my Workings amounted as yet simply to— Nothing. what a difference! A certain inarticulate Selfconsciousness dwells dimly in us. Now when I look back. your resource is to talk little. which only our Works can render articulate and decisively discernible. the fearful Unbelief is unbelief in yourself. Invisible yet impenetrable walls. Hence. and contemptuously cast out. How then could I believe in my Strength. a certain Worth. quite frivolous question. to be weak is the true misery. in whose withered. The men and women around me. And yet of your Strength there is and can be no clear feeling. it was a strange isolation I then lived in. as I now perceive. I had. by what you have done. whereby to discern my own wretchedness. the folly of that impossible Precept. and that little mostly from the Newspapers. in the wide world. were but Figures. and how could I believe? Had not my first. divided me from all living: was there. No. Know what thou canst work at. A feeble unit in the middle of a threatening Infinitude. Know thyself.

might not. the vast. In the midst of their crowded streets and assemblages.” concludes the Wanderer. was there a question present to me: Should some one now. quite in our Professor’s still vein. as I imagine. I walked solitary. of Purpose. for a Hell. without Life. or other Noworld. if there is no Devil. not another’s. in spite of his locomotive habits. for example: “How beautiful to die of broken-heart. at the turning of that corner. have fancied myself tempted and tormented of the Devil. so that no pure ray can enter. into the other World.” “So had it lasted. every window of your Feeling. as it were. may we not find in the following sentences.—how were it? On which ground. exhibited an imperturbability. “so had it lasted. rolling on. as the tiger in his jungle. nay. was not that a remedy I had at any time within reach? Often. that I kept devouring) savage also. I have often. however. unless the Devil is your God?” A prey incessantly to such corrosions. on Paper! Quite another thing in practice. in its dead indifference. To me the Universe was all void of Life. conscious? Why. in sea-storms and sieged cities and other death-scenes. even of your Intellect. gloomy. and Mill of Death! Why was the Living banished thither companionless. the very Devil has been pulled down. for. the iron constitution even of a Teufelsdrockh threaten to fail? We conjecture that he has known sickness. which passed. a whole Drug-shop in your inwards. solitary Golgotha. falsely enough. begrimed and mud-bespattered. to grind me limb from limb. blow thee suddenly out of Space. the fordone soul drowning slowly in quagmires of Disgust!” Putting all which external and internal miseries together. as in bitter protracted Death-agony. and (except as it was my own heart. immeasurable Steam-engine. and. perhaps sickness of the chronic sort. could I. moreover. for courage. Oh. too. Hear this. though only diabolic Life. as the worst aggravation to them. dead. Some comfort it would have been. even of Hostility: it was one huge. you cannot so much as believe in a Devil. like a Faust.Thomas Carlyle matic. through long 119 . were more frightful: but in our age of Down-pulling and Disbelief. significance enough? “From Suicide a certain after-shine (Nachschein) of Christianity withheld me: perhaps also a certain indolence of character. of Volition. by pistol-shot.

pusillanimous. recited Faust’s Death-song. as if the Heavens and the Earth were but boundless jaws of a devouring monster. there rose a Thought in me. toiling along the dirty little Rue Saint-Thomas de l’Enfer. that wild Selig der den er im Siegesglanze findet (Happy whom he finds in Battle’s splendor). a spirit. pining fear. and go cowering and trembling? Despicable biped! what is the sum-total of the worst that lies before thee? Death? Well. like a coward. that I might tell him a little of my mind. murmuring half-audibly. neither had I any definite fear. could the Arch-Devil himself. Death.day. and thought that of this last Friend even I was not forsaken. were it of Man or of Devil: nay. wherein I. I lived in a continual. and perhaps the miserablest man in the whole French Capital or Suburbs. canst thou not suffer whatsoever it be. strangely enough. The heart within me. and. while it consumes thee? Let it come. almost a god. I often felt as if it might be solacing. when. slow-consuming fire. and I shook base Fear away from me forever. Ever from that time. that Destiny itself could not doom me not to die. and say the pangs of Tophet too. of unknown strength. and over pavements hot as Nebuchadnezzar’s Furnace. I will meet it and defy it!’ And as I so thought. and all that the Devil and Man may. indefinite. was I. palpitating. all at once. 120 . was smouldering in sulphurous. whereby doubtless my spirits were little cheered. waited to be devoured. as a Child of Freedom. in a close atmosphere. dost thou forever pip and whimper. will or can do against thee! Hast thou not a heart. And yet. “Full of such humor. then. Almost since earliest memory I had shed no tear. though outcast. but Indignation and grim fire-eyed Defiance. after much perambulation. but rise to me. there rushed like a stream of fire over my whole soul. I was strong. one sultry Dog. and I asked myself: ‘What art thou afraid of? Wherefore. or once only when I. though in Tartarean terrors.Sartor Resartus years. among civic rubbish enough. apprehensive of I knew not what: it seemed as if all things in the Heavens above and the Earth beneath would hurt me. the temper of my misery was changed: not Fear or whining Sorrow was it. Having no hope. unvisited by any heavenly dew-drop. tremulous. trample Tophet itself under thy feet.

long so scathed and thunder-riven. as. Under another figure. here feels its own Freedom. indeed. and forever hate thee!’ “It is from this hour that I incline to date my Spiritual New-birth. For the fire-baptized soul. not indeed without hard battling. in native God-created majesty. are not the most peaceable inmates. thou art fatherless.” things in general. after this “Baphometic Fire-baptism” of his. perhaps I directly thereupon began to be a Man. Accordingly. yet can the Psychologist surmise that it was no longer a quite hopeless Unrest. Not wholly as a Spectre does Teufelsdrockh now storm through the world. become only the more tumultuous. our Wanderer signifies that his Unrest was but increased. the old inward Satanic School was not yet thrown out of doors. outcast.—whereby. but Free. “Indignation and Defiance. might. or Baphometic Fire-baptism. that henceforth it had at least a fixed centre to revolve round. in the Rue Saint-Thomas de l’Enfer. Such a Protest. if in that great moment. in the mean while. may that same Indignation and Defiance. and then was it that my whole me stood up.Thomas Carlyle “Thus had the EVERLASTING NO (das ewige Nein) pealed authoritatively through all the recesses of my Being. be fitly called.’ to which my whole Me now made answer: ‘I am not thine. which feeling is its Baphometic Baptism: the citadel of its whole kingdom it has thus gained by assault. and the Universe is mine (the Devil’s). and with emphasis recorded its Protest. in a psychological point of view. if we scrutinize these Pilgrimings well. and rebellious gnashings of teeth. the most important transaction in Life. outwards from which the remaining dominions. there is perhaps discernible henceforth a certain incipient method in their madness. we might say. and difficult to keep secret. and will keep inexpugnable. its howl-chantings. for the rest. of my me. The Everlasting No had said: ‘Behold. will doubtless by degrees be conquered and pacificated. Ernulphus-cursings. at worst as a spectra-fight121 CHAPTER VIII CENTRE OF INDIFFERENCE Though.” especially against . it received peremptory judicial notice to quit.

if not ceasing. on the sun’s rays (by Hearing and by Vision). as indispensable and priceless as they are. and still burns. spirit-like. In a word. mystic. still warms thee or scorches thee.” and ever without quenching of his thirst. if you demand sight of them. he nevertheless finds little secular wells. and its flame. and the smoke and ashes thereof (in these Judgment-Halls and Churchyards). it is a thing aeri122 . Metallurgic. and every hateful one. and thou thyself seest the very smoke thereof. If pilgriming restlessly to so many “Saints’ Wells. with the Authority they rest on. as through a long vista. thou still seest. and there. cannot in any way be fixed under lock and key. his Customs. and its bellows-engines (in these Churches). and set before your eyes! There. it has burnt. Does not the following glimpse exhibit him in a much more natural state? “Towns also and Cities. and still miraculously burns and spreads. an actual section of almost the earliest Past brought safe into the Present. whereby from time to time some alleviation is ministered. much more his collective stock of Handicrafts. but must flit. on impalpable vehicles.” and clutches round him outwardly on the not-me for wholesomer food. especially the ancient. Visible Ploughmen and Hammermen there have been. say only two thousand years ago. the whole Faculty he has acquired of manipulating Nature: all these things. looking out from every kind countenance. nay who will one day be a Spectre-queller. was a live ember of Culinary Fire put down. he is now. ever from Cain and Tubalcain downwards: but where does your accumulated Agricultural. into the remote Time. “Of Man’s Activity and Attainment the chief results are aeriform. Ah! and the far more mysterious live ember of Vital Fire was then also put down there. How beautiful to see thereby. from Father to Son.Sartor Resartus ing Man. they are nowhere to be met with. in that old City. to have. with such fuel as the region yielded. as it were. I failed not to look upon with interest. and other Manufacturing skill lie warehoused? It transmits itself on the atmospheric air. or Fashions both of Cloth-habits and of Soul-habits. and preserved in Tradition only: such are his Forms of Government. yet intermitting to “eat his own heart. burning more or less triumphantly.

looking over the Desert. yearly crumbling. Philosophical. more like a tilled field. So spiritual (geistig) is our whole daily Life: all that we do springs out of Mystery. foolishly 123 . does the Actual body itself forth from the great mystic Deep. this too is a thing aeriform. and be a wonder-bringing City of the Mind. every one of which is talismanic and thaumaturgic. invisible Force. to the Palais Bourbon. for it can persuade men. yearly needing repair. Wondrous indeed is the virtue of a true Book. which once in the two centuries or oftener there is a man gifted to do. namely over the Devil: thou too hast built what will outlast all marble and metal. impalpable. in thy antiquarian fervor. is that same cunningly devised almighty government of theirs to be laid hands on? Everywhere. and thirdly—Books. or if you will. Pamphlets. Deductions. to either or to both of which divisions Roads with their Bridges may belong. Journalistic Essays). and some bundles of Papers tied with tape. of quite spiritual sort.Thomas Carlyle form. Spirit. it stands from year to year. thou findest nothing there but brick or stone houses. air-built.— Fool! why journeyest thou wearisomely. with their Cabinets and Arsenals. as I can tell thee. but of the true sort. then tilled Fields. whereto all kindreds of the Earth will pilgrim. mystic and miraculous. In like manner. or Armida’s Palace. only like a little Cloud-image. Where are the laws. invisible. the last invented. lies a worth far surpassing that of the two others. where is the government? In vain wilt thou go to Schonbrunn. and inexpressibly pity him whom they name Conqueror or Cityburner! Thou too art a Conqueror and Victor. “Visible and tangible products of the Past. then. Not like a dead city of stones. O thou who art able to write a Book. a Temple and Seminary and Prophetic Mount. envy not him whom they name City-builder. again. In which third truly. or the clay ones of Sacchara? These stand there. to Downing Street. ask me not. let me rather say. and yearly comes its new produce of leaves (Commentaries. Political Systems. Where. yet nowhere: seen only in its works. and from age to age (we have Books that already number some hundred and fifty human ages). to gaze on the stone pyramids of Geeza. or were it only Sermons. but then a spiritual field: like a spiritual tree. idle and inert. I reckon up to the extent of three: Cities.

ruined tumbrils. and pleasant dwellings. there lie the Shells of Men. and the kind seedfield lies a desolate. and crammed down out of sight. for a corn-bearing Nursery. made for Ammunition-wagons. ay. when she bade the Donau bring down his mould-cargoes from the Carinthian and Carpathian Heights. nay greener. man’s fond care of it. then. O Marchfeld. And those red mould heaps. let us impart what follows:— “Horrible enough! A whole Marchfeld strewed with shellsplinters. wherein they might the more commodiously be throttled and tattered? Were thy three broad Highways.Sartor Resartus enough.—intend thee. we soon gather. and now are they swept together. meeting here from the ends of Europe. been defaced and defiled! The greensward is torn up and trampled down. ever out of our great waste educing some little profit of thy own. here Kaiser Franz falls a-swoon under Napoleon’s: within which five centuries. for the last three thousand years: but canst thou not open thy Hebrew Bible. then? Were thy Wagrams and Stillfrieds but so many ready-built Casemates. his fruit-trees. which. for once. or for a Cockpit. from the very carcass of the Killer. or even Luther’s Version thereof?” No less satisfactory is his sudden appearance not in Battle. Nature is at work. hedge-rows. whereon her children might be nursed. is the net 124 . out of which all the Life and Virtue has been blown. Omitting much. and spread them out here into the softest. wherein the house of Hapsburg might batter with artillery. how has thy breast. blown away with gunpowder. must be that of Wagram. bring Life for the Living! “What. and dead men and horses. stragglers still remaining not so much as buried. is a certain approximation to distinctness of date. fair Plain. Thrifty unwearied Nature. neither shall these Powder-Devilkins with their utmost devilry gainsay her: but all that gore and carnage will be shrouded in. dies under Rodolf’s truncheon. hideous Place of Skulls. and next year the Marchfeld will be green. cannon-shot. like blown Egg-shells!—Did Nature.—how dost thou. so that here. absorbed into manure. yet on some Battle-field. richest level. amid yonder hillocks. to omit the others.—Nevertheless. speaking in quite unofficial language. and with artillery be battered? Konig Ottokar.

there are successively selected. some mutual helpfulness between them. by Commerce. where the two Natural Enemies. and in place of sixty brisk useful craftsmen. and instead of shooting one another. usually some five hundred souls. or say only to the south of Spain. How then? Simpleton! their Governors had fallen out. From these. during the French war. the final Cessation of War is perhaps prophetically shadowed forth. and shipped away. unconsciously. take each a Tobacco-pipe. in person. which it must bury. each with a gun in his hand. at least in lucid intervals. at the public charges. and fed there till wanted. there dwell and toil. and even trained them to crafts.—Alas. ‘what devilry soever Kings do. they are selected. another hammer. had the cunning to make these poor blockheads shoot. another build. all dressed in red. amid much weeping and swearing. by certain ‘Natural Enemies’ of the French.Thomas Carlyle purport and upshot of war? To my own knowledge. nay. so is it in Deutschland. some two thousand miles. and the weakest can stand under thirty stone avoirdupois. the world has sixty dead carcasses. so that one can weave. has suckled and nursed them: she has. not the smallest! They lived far enough apart. Had these men any quarrel? Busy as the Devil is. say thirty ablebodied men. Straightaway the word ‘Fire!’ is given. not without difficulty and sorrow. and smoke in one another’s faces. We 125 . filled with Brimstone. fed them up to manhood. are thirty similar French artisans. and contentious centuries. and hitherto in all other lands. in so wide a Universe. and pertinently enough note what is passing there. in the south of Spain. the Greeks must pay the piper!’—In that fiction of the English Smollett. still as of old. over the many-colored world. and anew shed tears for. in the British village of Dumdrudge. what blood-filled trenches. may still divide us!” Thus can the Professor. after infinite effort. And now to that same spot. it is true. and Thirty stands fronting Thirty. there was even. the two parties come into actual juxtaposition. look away from his own sorrows. Nevertheless. till the weaker gives in: but from such predicted Peace-Era. from a French Dumdrudge. and they blow the souls out of one another. light the same. Dumdrudge. were the entirest strangers. for example. in like manner wending: till at length. at her own expense.

Sartor Resartus may remark. by my organ of Hearing. perhaps few periods of his life were richer than this. or seen that there was no studying. Geographics. favorable to Meditation. as he wanders to and fro. going on. oftener than once a hundred thousand individuals shot (by each other) in one day. the World well won. except the Chinese Mandarin ones. Unknown Languages have I oftenest gathered from their natural repertory. Internally. that is to say. might help him rather than hinder. what an incredible knowledge of our Planet. might not Teufelsdrockh acquire! “I have read in most Public Libraries. that for the matter of spiritual culture. The ways of Man. there are. The great Wall of China I have seen. have not I witnessed? Kings sweated down (ausgemergelt) into Berlinand-Milan Customhouse-Officers. I lingered reflecting. “including those of Constantinople and Samarcand: in most Colleges. the Air. yet for the seeing eye sights enough in these so boundless Travels of his. and can testify that it is of gray brick. almost of their own accord. again. towards the right comprehension of which his Peripatetic habits. there is the most momentous instructive Course of Practical Philosophy. if for the longing heart little substance. and shifted and shovelled into heaps. if for nothing else. and in time unite. and its Inhabitants and their Works. and in that clear Lakelet moistened my bread. Statistics. wherewith convulsed Europe was groaning in cries that 126 . indeed. All kindreds and peoples and nations dashed together. of all knowable things. granting that the Satanic School was even partially kept down. and protection for himself. through the Eye. Externally. “Of great Scenes why speak? Three summer days. I have studied.” says he. smoked a pipe among the ruins of Babylon. coped and covered with granite. The birth-pangs of Democracy. with Experiments. Topographics came. I have sat under the Palm-trees of Tadmor. and warmth. Like the great Hadrian. and even composing (dichtete). how he seeks food. in most regions. are ocularly known to me. I meted out much of the terraqueous Globe with a pair of Compasses that belonged to myself only. and shows only second-rate masonry. and the World well lost. also. that they might ferment there.—Great Events. by the Pine-chasms of Vaucluse.

some time ago laid down. and your innumerable untalented men.” says the Professor. through the cannon’s throat. Great Men are the inspired (speaking and acting) Texts of that divine Book of Revelations. still more. find circumstances altered. “was among the completest Ideologists. of Crowned Heads. Should we. of Pope Pius. moved and fought. that great doctrine. wherein alone can liberty lie. Of Lord Byron. which for the present were little better than treacherous. the inspired Texts themselves! Thus did not I. “For great Men I have ever had the warmest predilection. in very early days. and the time come for Publication. and the “White Water-roses” (Chinese Carbonari) with their mysteries. and by some named history. heretical or orthodox. be tampered with. under that shady Tree at Treisnitz by the Jena Highway. then taken into private conversation. For—” —But at this point the Editor recalls his principle of caution. it is true. as an “Ideologist. and wagon-load of too-stupid. whereof a Chapter is completed from epoch to epoch. glancing from afar. and hearing what I have not forgotten. and preached. then may these glimpses into the privacy of the Illustrious be conceded. Let not the sacredness of Laurelled. therefore. are the better or worse exegetic Commentaries. La carriere ouverte aux talens (The Tools to him that can handle them). at last indignantly dismissed. Madly enough he preached.Thomas Carlyle reached Heaven. though unconscious of it. almost thrown out of doors. For my study.” “He himself. could not escape me. no notice here! Of Napoleon himself we shall only. to which inspired Texts your numerous talented men. as Enthusiasts 127 . even pinched on the ear. stand behind the field-chairs. weekly Sermons. yet presented with no money. At first we find our poor Professor on the point of being shot as a spy. The man was a Divine Missionary. waiting upon the great Schiller and greater Goethe. remark that Teufelsdrockh’s relation to him seems to have been of very varied character. Emperor Tarakwang. at least Ideopraxists: in the Idea (in der Idee) he lived. perhaps traitorous Eavesdroppings. and must suppress much. which is our ultimate Political Evangel. and can perhaps boast that few such in this era have wholly escaped me. at a future day. having disguised me as tavern-waiter.

or be looked on. principal. indeed sole upper-garment. or monster. I signify my indifference to contraband trade. and battle with innumerable wolves. over which in the utmost North the great Sun hangs low and lazy. With courteous brevity. has its character: nothing but the granite cliffs ruddy-tinged. to ring quaintest changes. if you will. yet ready. an American Backwoodsman. “Silence as of death. and Palace of the Eternal. scrambling from among the rock-hollows. continues to advance. like a tremulous fire-pillar. even in the Arctic latitudes. amid much frothy rant.Sartor Resartus and first Missionaries are wont. and now has advanced. He has a “light-blue Spanish cloak” hanging round him. and even theft. yet as articulately perhaps as the case admitted. rioting. the peaceful Sower will follow. and. till we stand both on the verge of 128 . in this solemn moment comes a man. for who would speak. bless. or perhaps profit. as if he too were slumbering. were it with murder.” writes he. and minded to make sport for himself. shooting downwards to the abyss. fast asleep. when behind him lies all Europe and Africa. the peaceable gurgle of that slow-heaving Polar Ocean. and. like a little blue Belfry (as we figure). huge as the Hyperborean Bear. and before him the silent Immensity. a Russian Smuggler. notwithstanding.” More legitimate and decisively authentic is Teufelsdrockh’s appearance and emergence (we know not well whence) in the solitude of the North Cape. and hide itself under my feet. ever assailing me with his importunate train-oil breath. Or call him. who had to fell unpenetrated forests. now motionless indeed.” and stands there. shaggy. on the World-promontory. hails me in Russian speech: most probably. my humane intentions. counting doubtless on his superior stature. yet strong wish to be private. “for Midnight. Solitude also is invaluable. therefore. Yet is his cloud-couch wrought of crimson and cloth-of-gold. as he cuts the boundless harvest. yet does his light stream over the mirror of waters. on that June Midnight. looking over the infinite Brine. whom. In such moments. as his “most commodious. except the watchmen. and did not entirely forbear strong liquor. whereof our Sun is but a porch-lamp? “Nevertheless. with imperfect utterance. In vain: the monster. if stirred.

savage Animalism is nothing. a sufficient Birmingham Horse-pistol.— make pause at the distance of twelve paces asunder. ‘Be so obliging as retire. to see his wondrous Manikins here below. Freund). in this so surprising world. and off-hand become Air. inventive Spiritualism is all. could such a thing be. What argument will avail? On the thick Hyperborean. which is our chief quest here: How prospered the inner man of Teufelsdrockh. swallowing many a bitter bolus. and. and. “Such I hold to be the genuine use of Gunpowder: that it makes all men alike tall. whirl round. very soon. and say. and to dissolve therein. whereby 129 . but next to nothing introduced in its room. at any rate. We should rather say that Legion. simultaneously by the cunningest mechanism. if thou be cooler. let us not forget the great generality. then canst thou kill me first. and art the taller. Prepared for such extremity. Few things. cherubic reasoning. and with promptitude!’ This logic even the Hyperborean understands: fast enough. petitionary growl. hovering with insecure enough cohesion in the midst of the unfathomable. the deep Sea rippling greedily down below. and the David resistless. I think with old Hugo von Trimberg: ‘God must needs laugh outright. with apologetic. or the Satanic School. Two little visual Spectra of men. if thou have more Mind. Nay. he sidles off. and with him Teufelsdrockh has now been long a patient. Experience is the grand spiritual Doctor. draw out. though all but no Body whatever. deftly enough.Thomas Carlyle the rock. is the Goliath powerless. I have my own ideas. which seems not likely. the little spitfires!—Nay. Friend (Er ziehe sich zuruck. “With respect to Duels. seraphic eloquence were lost. though repressed. indeed. Unless our poor Friend belong to the numerous class of Incurables. under so much outward shifting! Does Legion still lurk in him. cleverer than I. from my interior reservoirs. whisk aside one step. at last. need not return. strike me with more surprise. some cure will doubtless be effected.’” But amid these specialties. and Non-extant! Deuce on it (verdammt). Hereby. explode one another into Dissolution. I. or has he exorcised that Devil’s Brood? We can answer that the symptoms continue promising. was now pretty well extirpated and cast out. except for suicidal as well as homicidal purposes.

all as noisy as our own. thou art wholly as a dissevered limb: so be it. by mere dint of practice. a whole Universe? Ach Gott. and Arcturus and Orion and Sirius and the Pleiades are still shining in their courses. or Shadow-hunted. in this inane Existence. thought I: but what. Somebody? For thee the Family of Man has no use. in a quiet but no comfortable state. Pray only that it be not rather. is Something. “At length. clear and young. Wretchedness was still wretched. reduced to a caput-mortuum! But in any case. as when the Shepherd first noted them in the plain of Shinar. it rejects thee.Sartor Resartus the heart remains. “This. have they not looked down on me as if with pity. miserable enough? Thy wishes have all been sniffed aside. Pshaw! what is this paltry little Dog-cage of an Earth. from their serene spaces. had I not found a Shadowhunter. when I looked through his brave garnitures.” thus writes our Autobiographer. Nobody: true. “was the centre of indiffernece I had now reached. like Eyes glistening with heavenly tears over the little lot of man! Thousands of human generations. and despise it. Which highest mortal. and bound forth free and with a second youth. or after that.” says our Professor. have been swallowed up of Time. after so much roasting. and there remains no wreck of them any more. as is the more frequent issue. and. but I could now partly see through it.” 130 . I had grown familiar with many things. or a whole Solar System. when I gazed into these Stars. then. for the while. had they even been all granted! Did not the Boy Alexander weep because he had not two Planets to conquer. but who. “I was what you might name calcined. what art thou that sittest whining there? Thou art still Nothing. through which whoso travels from the Negative Pole to the Positive must necessarily pass. one day he will hurl the burden far from him. perhaps it is better so!” Too-heavy-laden Teufelsdrockh! Yet surely his bands are loosening.

to these also comes an end. till it be deciphered and obeyed. night or day. And as the clay-given mandate. lies mysteriously written. “Have we not all to be tried with such? Not so easily can the old Adam. after weariest wanderings. and leaves us no rest. Unhappy if we are not! Unhappy if we are but Half-men. doleful of sight and of sound. to me also was given. To me also. when such God-given mandate first prophetically stirs within him. Eat thou and be filled. or in the populous moral Desert of selfishness and baseness. in darkness. For the God-given mandate. but quivers dubiously amid meaner lights: or smoulders. if not Victory. be dispossessed. all-subduing. lodged in us by birth. entangled in the enchanted forests. yet the consciousness of Battle. Name it as we choose: with or without visible Devil. in our conduct. in dull pain. acted Gospel of Freedom. defiantly setting him at naught till he yield and fly. a visible. Work thou in Well-doing. whether in the natural Desert of rocks and sands. and the Clay must now be vanquished or vanquish. at the same time persuasively proclaims itself through every nerve. especially. in true sun-splendor. and there fronting the Tempter do grimmest battle with him. than Voluntary Force: thus have we a warfare. before the better Influence can become the upper? “To me nothing seems more natural than that the Son of Man. to work out my way into the higher sunlit slopes—of that Mountain which has 131 . under earthly vapors!—Our Wilderness is the wide World in an Atheistic Century. till it burn forth. a hard-fought battle. in our hearts.—must not there be a confusion. in the beginning. it was given. Our Life is compassed round with Necessity. our Forty Days are long years of suffering and fasting: nevertheless. a contest.—to such Temptation are we all called. yet is the meaning of Life itself no other than Freedom. and the resolve to persevere therein while life or faculty is left. in Promethean Prophetic Characters. demon-peopled. in whom that divine handwriting has never blazed forth. Yes.Thomas Carlyle CHAPTER IX THE EVERLASTING YEA “Temptations in the Wilderness! “ exclaims Teufelsdrockh.—should be carried of the spirit into grim Solitudes.

as figures are. there has been a “glorious revolution:” these mad shadow-hunting and shadowhunted Pilgrimings of his were but some purifying “Temptation in the Wilderness. under the Droughts of practical and spiritual Unbelief. like the first fallow-crop. known to these profane times. and the Devil once more worsted! Was “that high moment in the Rue de l’Enfer. Successive glimpses. profane as they are. under a less ambitious figure. and consider. natural to him: “Has not thy Life been that of most sufficient men (tuchtigen Manner) thou hast known in this generation? An outflush of foolish young Enthusiasm. here faithfully imparted. be the Heavens praised. for such. which Temptation is now happily over. wherein are as many weeds as valuable herbs: this all parched away. in what words. in those Paper-bags. Worship me. as Disappointment. and even exemplars.” So that. no clear logical Picture. and was answered valiantly with an Apage Satana?—Singular Teufelsdrockh. now more than ever.Sartor Resartus no summit. our more gifted readers must endeavor to combine for their own behoof. and the long-deafened soul could now hear. “How paint to the sensual eye. in eye-bewildering chiaroscuro. prophetico-satiric. often-repeated gave rise to Doubt. once for all. I am not without examples.” then. or be torn in shreds. for Teufelsdrockh. fitfully wavering. I paused in my wild wanderings. when the Fiend said. figurative crotchets: a typical Shadow. which defy all Drought (and Doubt).” before his apostolic work (such as it was) could begin. but whimsical. and sit under umbrageous cedars. and sat me down to wait. speak even afar-off of the unspeakable?” We ask in turn: Why perplex these times. for it was as if the 132 .” asks he once. and Doubt gradually settled into Denial! If I have had a second-crop. Nothing but innuendoes. with needless obscurity. its howl went silent within me. and now see the perennial greensward. in thought and act. He says: “The hot Harmattan wind had raged itself out. “what passes in the Holy-of-Holies of Man’s Soul. and involves himself. properly the turning-point of the battle. or whose summit is in Heaven only!” He says elsewhere. also. would thou hadst told thy singular story in plain words! But it is fruitless to look there. by omission and by commission? Not mystical only is our Professor. herein too.

Let me rest here: for I am way-weary and life-weary. while by fits from within comes the faint whimpering of woe and wail.—namely. ye too are all shadows and a lie.Thomas Carlyle hour of change drew nigh. We transcribe the piece entire. I will believe you no more. in still weather. with her children round her:—all hidden and protectingly folded up in the valleyfolds. Annihilation of Self (Selbst-todtung). false shadows of Hope. in Teufelsdrockh. haggard spectres of Fear. had been happily accomplished. during this same “healing sleep. lovely enough: or better still. I will chase you no more. and white dames and damosels. whereon. as roof. yet there and alive. “Beautiful it was to sit there. even of levity. as on a culinary 133 . in almost all weather. Or to see. of the Four azure Winds. I seemed to surrender. than we could have expected! However. and my mind’s eyes were now unsealed. into a healing sleep. in some parts. on “the high table-land. which. alike insignificant. on the high table-land. musing and meditating. I will rest here. four azure-flowing curtains. and. And then to fancy the fair Castles that stood sheltered in these Mountain hollows.”— And again: “Here. cast. as well as fancy. were it but to die: to die or to live is alike to me. with their green flower-lawns. and its hands ungyved.” that his Pilgrim-staff lies cast aside here. and around me. wherein stood many a Mother baking bread. The first preliminary moral Act. the heavy dreams rolled gradually away. with guitarmusic. then. and say: Fly. I care not for you. the nine Towns and Villages. that lay round my mountain-seat. to renounce utterly. there is always the strangest Dualism: light dancing. doubtless by benignant upper Influence. on whose bottom-fringes also I have seen gilding. over me.” and indeed that the repose is already taking wholesome effect on him? If it were not that the tone. And ye too. as I lay in that centre of indiffernce. has more of riancy. for walls. will be going on in the fore-court. the azure Dome. proclaimed their vitality by repeated Smoke-clouds. as sure as if I beheld them. as in my skyey Tent. and I awoke to a new Heaven and a new Earth. the straw-roofed Cottages.” Might we not also conjecture that the following passage refers to his Locality. in front of the Mountains. then. were wont to speak to me (by their steeple-bells) with metal tongue.

and my Father’s! “With other eyes. like soft streamings of celestial music to my tooexasperated heart. with all its love-makings and scandal-mongeries. art thou not so weary. would the eddying vapor gather. from each of the nine. How thou fermentest and elaboratest. I had learned to look into the business of the World in its details. then. call them rather fore-splendors. O my Brother. as yet grim-blue. For it was the smoke of cookery.—If.Sartor Resartus horologe. wandering. that lives and loves in thee. in the clear sunbeam. ah. as in miniature. Sweeter than Dayspring to the Shipwrecked in Nova Zembla. and there tumultuously eddy. why cannot I shelter thee in my 134 . were boiling their husbands’ kettles. but godlike. fell mysteriously over my soul. midday. “Often also could I see the black Tempest marching in anger through the Distance: round some Schreckhorn. in thy great fermenting-vat and laboratory of an Atmosphere. after a space. Not uninteresting! For you have the whole Borough. that ever speaks through thee. your Schreckhorn stood smiling grim-white. saying. came that Evangel. an infinite Pity. here perhaps was the place for combining it into general propositions. Poor. of that Truth. and deducing inferences therefrom. could I now look upon my fellowman: with an infinite Love. of a World. so heavy-laden. O Nature!—Or what is Nature? Ha! why do I not name thee GOD? Art not thou the ‘Living Garment of God’? O Heavens. and. eventide. and flow down like a mad witch’s hair. a charnel-house with spectres. and ever a blue pillar rose up into the air. till. even as I am? Ever. and could cover it all with your hat. it vanished. as kind housewives at morning. and thy Bed of Rest is but a Grave. and beaten with stripes. like the mother’s voice to her little child that strays bewildered. as plainly as smoke could say: Such and such a meal is getting ready here. my Brother. that lives and loves in me? “Fore-shadows. I might read the hour of the day. and Beginning of Truths. he. contentions and contentments. in very deed. in unknown tumults. wayward man! Art thou not tried. is it. whether thou bear the royal mantle or the beggar’s gabardine. too. for the vapor had held snow. weeping. successively or simultaneously. The Universe is not dead and demoniacal. in my wide Way-farings.

with the mind’s organ. the din of many-voiced Life. arises in every soul. incomplete enough Suppression of this controversy. as I construe. and no less: God’s infinite Universe alto135 . simply this allotment. which. “touching what is at present called Origin of Evil. I now first named him Brother. no more. The most. since the beginning of the world. have to go content with a simple. and wipe away all tears from thy eyes!—Truly. “A vain interminable controversy. and even for his sufferings and his sins. with his so mad Wants and so mean Endeavors. was no longer a maddening discord. and was free. was now my needy Mother. had become the dearer to me. that would pass from idle Suffering into actual Endeavoring. I could hear. Will the whole Finance Ministers and Upholsterers and Confectioners of modern Europe undertake. too. steep ways had I too been guided thither. but a melting one. it is because there is an Infinite in him. In every new era. and straightway could unfasten it. and would require.” writes he. in joint-stock company. he here first got eye on the Knot that had been strangling him.Thomas Carlyle bosom. if you consider it. he cannot help it though he would. and is found unserviceable. Man’s Unhappiness. and in every soul. to make one Shoeblack happy? They cannot accomplish it. for my own private behoof I attempt to elucidate the matter so.’ by strange. or some such thing. which with all his cunning he cannot quite bury under the Finite. and ever the Solution of the last era has become obsolete. The authentic Church-Catechism of our present century has not yet fallen into my hands: meanwhile. to a few some Solution of it is indispensable. must first be put an end to. Man. in our time. for his permanent satisfaction and saturation. in this solitude. not my cruel Stepdame. with her poor joys. and the ‘Divine Depth of Sorrow’ lie disclosed to me. such Solution comes out in different terms.” The Professor says. The poor Earth. For it is man’s nature to change his Dialect from century to century. Thus was I standing in the porch of that ‘Sanctuary of Sorrow. like inarticulate cries. and sobbings of a dumb creature. which in the ear of Heaven are prayers. above an hour or two: for the Shoeblack also has a Soul quite other than his Stomach. comes of his Greatness. and ere long its sacred gates would open.

ever since earliest years.Sartor Resartus gether to himself. he sets to quarrelling with the proprietor of the other half. requires neither thanks nor complaint.’ “I asked myself: What is this that. Unity itself divided by Zero will give Infinity. of our deserts. Make thy claim of wages a zero. was ever worthy gentleman so used!—I tell thee. therein to enjoy infinitely. of our own striking. Oceans of Hochheimer. as I said. this we fancy belongs to us by nature. thou hast the world under thy feet. and declares himself the most maltreated of men. and averages. Fancy that thou deservest to be hanged (as is most likely). thou hast been fretting and fuming.—Always there is a black spot in our sunshine: it is even. and lamenting and self-tormenting. it all comes of thy Vanity. than he grumbles that it might have been of better vintage. Now consider that we have the valuation of our own deserts ourselves. Nay. No sooner is your ocean filled. Blockhead. and lovingly cared for? Foolish soul! What Act of 136 . Try him with half of a Universe. can be said to begin. the Shadow of Ourselves. of what thou fanciest those same deserts of thine to be. and many a Blockhead cry: See there. “So true is it. nourished. what a payment. we come upon some sort of average terrestrial lot. “But the whim we have of Happiness is somewhat thus. that the Fraction of Life can be increased in value not so much by increasing your Numerator as by lessening your Denominator. what I then said. It is simple payment of our wages. to the infinite Shoeblack they are as nothing. of an Omnipotence. on account of? Say it in a word: is it not because thou art not happy? Because the thou (sweet gentleman) is not sufficiently honored. By certain valuations. properly speaking. any deficit again is Misery. then. it will be a luxury to die in hemp. only such overplus as there may be do we account Happiness. and what a fund of Self-conceit there is in each of us. thou wilt feel it happiness to be only shot: fancy that thou deservest to be hanged in a hair-halter. a Throat like that of Ophiuchus: speak not of them. and fill every wish as fast as it rose.—do you wonder that the balance should so often dip the wrong way. and of indefeasible right. softbedded. unless my Algebra deceive me. Well did the Wisest of our time write: ‘It is only with Renunciation (Entsagen) that Life.

overgrown with jungle. even till thou become contrite and learn it! Oh. it is well with him. the Editor will only remark. and its sacred Lamp perennially burning. and triumphs over Death. wherein all contradiction is solved: wherein whoso walks and works. but borne aloft into the azure of Eternity. thank thy Destiny for these. unsuited to the general apprehension. thou art not engulfed. for this a Greater than Zeno was needed. thou findest the Altar still there. through life and through death. What if thou wert born and predestined not to be Happy. and even because it injures thee. arched out of falling fragments. but to be Unhappy! Art thou nothing other than a Vulture. the Poet and the Priest. nay wherein he him137 . venture forward. By benignant fever-paroxysms is Life rooting out the deep-seated chronic Disease.Thomas Carlyle Legislature was there that thou shouldst be Happy? A little while ago thou hadst no right to be at all. love God. that fliest through the Universe seeking after somewhat to eat. have spoken and suffered. founded some eighteen centuries ago. in all times. then. and shrieking dolefully because carrion enough is not given thee? Close thy Byron. I see a glimpse of it!” cries he elsewhere: “there is in man a higher than Love of Happiness: he can do without Happiness. that there lies beside them much of a still more questionable character. bearing testimony. O Heavens! and broken with manifold merciful Afflictions. Love not Pleasure. as old Greek Zeno trained thee: thou canst love the Earth while it injures thee. and instead thereof find Blessedness! Was it not to preach forth this same higher that sages and martyrs. open thy Goethe. Knowest thou that ‘Worship of Sorrow’? The Temple thereof. the Self in thee needed to be annihilated. On the roaring billows of Time. This is the everlasting yea. now lies in ruins.” Without pretending to comment on which strange utterances. the habitation of doleful creatures: nevertheless. and he too was sent.” “Es leuchtet mir ein. of the Godlike that is in Man. thankfully bear what yet remain: thou hadst need of them. in a low crypt.” And again: “Small is it that thou canst trample the Earth with its injuries under thy feet. and how in the Godlike only has he Strength and Freedom? Which God-inspiredd Doctrine art thou also honored to be taught.

” thus apostrophizes the Professor: “shut thy sweet voice.” “Neither. may live? What! thou hast no faculty in that kind? Only a torch for burning. and bring it to an end. Sufficiently hast thou demonstrated this proposition. struggling over ‘Plenary Inspiration. and then say whether it is of God! This is Belief. otherwise too like perishing. no hammer for building? Take our thanks. let him take the following perhaps more intelligible passage:— “To me. all needed to convince us of so little! But what next? Wilt thou help us to embody the divine Spirit of that Religion in a new Mythus. in Picture-Writing to assist the weaker faculty.” on Prophecy.—say. nay with my own eyes I saw the God’s-Hand writing it: thereof all other Bibles are but Leaves. to give the wearied reader relief. for the task appointed thee seems finished. We select some fractions. is it not here? Feel it in thy heart. that our Souls. of whose Plenary Inspiration doubt is not so much as possible.’ and such like: try rather to get a little even Partial Inspiration. then. Nebulous disquisitions on Religion. all else is Opinion. a thing which Herr von Voltaire will dispute out of me. “Cease. and—thyself away. or dispute into me? To the ‘Worship of Sorrow’ ascribe what origin and genesis thou pleasest. were thy six-and-thirty quartos.Sartor Resartus self does not see his way. let him worry and be worried. other warfare 138 .” observes he elsewhere. in this our life. in our own day:” with more of the like sort. considerable or otherwise: That the Mythus of the Christian Religion looks not in the eighteenth century as it did in the eighth. “Meanwhile what are antiquated Mythuses to me? Or is the God present. printed before and since on the same subject. my much-respected Herr von Voltaire.—for which latter whoso will. has not that Worship originated. by way of finish to this farrago. each of you for himself.” says the Professor. “shall ye tear out one another’s eyes. and flying sheets or reams. Alas.” Or. in a new vehicle and vesture. yet not without bursts of splendor. and the six-and-thirty thousand other quartos and folios. on the “perennial continuance of Inspiration. One Bible I know. as well as Baal-Priests. and been generated. “which is an internecine warfare with the Time-spirit. that there are “true Priests. felt in my own heart.

nay I will fight thee rather. Applied Christianity. however. despicable Actual. as a wise man teaches us. that your ‘America is here or nowhere’? The Situation that has not its Duty. see! thou art taking more than thy share of Happiness in the world. formless. I advise thee. so is this. take that pitiful additional fraction of a share. which I reckoned mine. Yes here. wherein the whole man has been dimly struggling and inexpressibly languishing to work. Most true is it. with amazement enough. think well what the meaning thereof is. and prays vehemently that the dawn may ripen into day. If thou gauge it to the bottom. something from my share: which. and you discover. miserable. take it with a blessing: would to Heaven I had enough for thee!’—If Fichte’s Wissenschaftslehre be. were it never so excellent. Hast thou in any way a contention with thy brother. ‘to a certain extent. and so fashion itself into a system. that the hour of Spiritual Enfranchisement is even this: When your Ideal World. Nay properly Conviction is not possible till then. yet a Half Duty. it is simply this: ‘Fellow. a vortex amid vortices. is worthless till it convert itself into Conduct. as we can demonstrate it! “But indeed Conviction.Thomas Carlyle seems questionable. thou shalt not. too.’ for the substance has been spilled out: not enough to quench one Appetite. was never yet occupied by man. but which thou so wantest. let him who gropes painfully in darkness or uncertain light. wherein thou 139 . We have here not a Whole Duty of Man. in this poor.’—Alas. “May we not say. and the whole lot to be divided is such a beggarly matter. that ‘Doubt of any sort cannot be removed except by Action. namely the Passive half: could we but do it. and the collective human species clutching at them!— Can we not. by the Heavens. rather say: ‘Take it.’ which thou knowest to be a Duty! Thy second Duty will already have become clearer. which to me was of invaluable service: ‘Do the Duty which lies nearest thee. in all such cases.’ On which ground. and thrown open. its Ideal. inasmuch as all Speculation is by nature endless. hampered. thou too-ravenous individual. becomes revealed. lay this other precept well to heart. only by a felt indubitable certainty of Experience does it find any centre to revolve round. truly a ‘feast of shells. like the Lothario in Wilhelm Meister.’ surely to a still greater extent.

Up. “rejoice 140 . do it with thy whole might. fertile. is it not miraculous and God-announcing. even as. in such circumstances. as closely and perhaps satisfactorily as. believe. wherein no man can work. Divine moment. so the Form thou give it be heroic. when over the tempest-tost Soul.” CHAPTER X PAUSE Thus have we. followed Teufelsdrockh. ‘here or nowhere. the impediment too is in thyself: thy Condition is but the stuff thou art to shape that same Ideal out of: what matters whether such stuff be of this sort or that.” says he. “Blame not the word. Unbelief. Fool! the Ideal is in thyself. or even Worldkin. then. and working. into a certain clearer state of what he himself seems to consider as Conversion. Till the eye have vision. live. the rudely jumbled conflicting elements bind themselves into separate Firmaments: deep silent rock-foundations are built beneath. here or nowhere is thy Ideal: work it out therefrom. The mad primeval Discord is hushed. we have a blooming.’ couldst thou only see! “But it is with man’s Soul as it was with Nature: the beginning of Creation is—Light. be poetic? O thou that pinest in the imprisonment of the Actual. but a World. as once over the wild-weltering Chaos. and criest bitterly to the gods for a kingdom wherein to rule and create. the whole members are in bonds. and almost Reprobation. for the Night cometh. be free. up! Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do. Produce! Produce! Were it but the pitifullest infinitesimal fraction of a Product. heaven-encompassed World. Work while it is called Today. “I too could now say to myself: Be no longer a Chaos.Sartor Resartus even now standest. it is spoken: Let there be Light! Ever to the greatest that has felt such moment. under simpler figures. might be. to the simplest and least. Entanglement. through the various successive states and stages of Growth. know this of a truth: the thing thou seekest is already with thee. and the skyey vault with its everlasting Luminaries above: instead of a dark wasteful Chaos. in God’s name! ’Tis the utmost thou hast in thee: out with it. produce it.

Thomas Carlyle rather that such a word. or a Thing. should be the most continuing of all things. man. what God has given thee. not indeed known as mine (for what am I?). and warping-mill. which nevertheless is in continual restless flux. there is not a Man. The Old World knew nothing of Conversion. arise! Speak forth what is in thee. and the poorest of their Pietists and Methodists. He has discovered that the Ideal Workshop he so panted for is even this same Actual ill-furnished Workshop he has so long been stumbling in. “have I thenceforth abidden. perhaps not alto141 . or even before it. furnished. it is appointed that Sound. though hidden from the wisest Ancients. what to Plato was but a hallucination. can create as by a Fiat. signifying such a thing. what the Devil shall not take away. It was a new-attained progress in the Moral Development of man: hereby has the Highest come home to the bosoms of the most Limited. is now clear and certain to your Zinzendorfs. instead of an Ecce Homo. with stone-and-lime house to hold it in: every being that can live can do something: this let him do.” adds Teufelsdrockh. now alive but has tools. to appearance the most fleeting. and three fingers to hold a Pen withal? Never since Aaron’s Rod went out of practice.” It is here. was there such a wonder-working Tool: greater than all recorded miracles have been performed by Pens. your Wesleys. He can say to himself: “Tools? Thou hast no Tools? Why. Higher task than that of Priesthood was allotted to no man: wert thou but the meanest in that sacred Hierarchy. thereby divine. and power-loom within its head: the stupidest of Oysters has a Papin’s-Digester. Awake. and to Socrates a chimera. have fallen.” with the spirit and clear aims of a Man.— Tools? Hast thou not a Brain. The word is well said to be omnipotent in this world. they had only some Choice of Hercules. that the spiritual majority of Teufelsdrockh commences: we are henceforth to see him “work in well-doing. The basest of created animalcules. Writings of mine. then. furnishable with some glimmerings of Light. has a spinning-jenny. the Spider itself. which whoso will may sacrilegiously degrade into a handicraft. For strangely in this so solid-seeming World. has come to light in our modern Era. is it not honor enough therein to spend and be spent? “By this Art.

Sartor Resartus gether void, into the mighty seedfield of Opinion; fruits of my unseen sowing gratifyingly meet me here and there. I thank the Heavens that I have now found my Calling; wherein, with or without perceptible result, I am minded diligently to persevere. “Nay how knowest thou,” cries he, “but this and the other pregnant Device, now grown to be a world-renowned far-working Institution; like a grain of right mustard-seed once cast into the right soil, and now stretching out strong boughs to the four winds, for the birds of the air to lodge in,—may have been properly my doing? Some one’s doing, it without doubt was; from some Idea, in some single Head, it did first of all take beginning: why not from some Idea in mine?” Does Teufelsdrockh, here glance at that “Society for the Conservation of Property (Eigenthumsconservirende Gesellschaft),” of which so many ambiguous notices glide spectra-like through these inexpressible Paper-bags? “An Institution,” hints he, “not unsuitable to the wants of the time; as indeed such sudden extension proves: for already can the Society number, among its office-bearers or corresponding members, the highest Names, if not the highest Persons, in Germany, England, France; and contributions, both of money and of meditation pour in from all quarters; to, if possible, enlist the remaining Integrity of the world, and, defensively and with forethought, marshal it round this Palladium.” Does Teufelsdrockh mean, then, to give himself out as the originator of that so notable Eigenthums-conservirende (“Owndom-conserving”) Gesellschaft; and if so, what, in the Devil’s name, is it? He again hints: “At a time when the divine Commandment, Thou shalt not steal, wherein truly, if well understood, is comprised the whole Hebrew Decalogue, with Solon’s and Lycurgrus’s Constitutions, Justinian’s Pandects, the Code Napoleon, and all Codes, Catechisms, Divinities, Moralities whatsoever, that man has hitherto devised (and enforced with Altar-fire and Gallows-ropes) for his social guidance: at a time, I say, when this divine Commandment has all but faded away from the general remembrance; and, with little disguise, a new opposite Commandment, Thou shalt steal, is everywhere promulgated,—it perhaps behooved, in this universal dotage and deliration, the sound portion of man142

Thomas Carlyle kind to bestir themselves and rally. When the widest and wildest violations of that divine right of Property, the only divine right now extant or conceivable, are sanctioned and recommended by a vicious Press, and the world has lived to hear it asserted that we have no Property in our very Bodies, but only an accidental Possession and Life-rent, what is the issue to be looked for? Hangmen and Catchpoles may, by their noose-gins and baited falltraps, keep down the smaller sort of vermin; but what, except perhaps some such Universal Association, can protect us against whole meat-devouring and man-devouring hosts of Boa-constrictors. If, therefore, the more sequestered Thinker have wondered, in his privacy, from what hand that perhaps not ill-written Program in the Public Journals, with its high Prize-Questions and so liberal Prizes, could have proceeded,—let him now cease such wonder; and, with undivided faculty, betake himself to the Concurrenz (Competition).” We ask: Has this same “perhaps not ill-written Program,” or any other authentic Transaction of that Property-conserving Society, fallen under the eye of the British Reader, in any Journal foreign or domestic? If so, what are those Prize-Questions; what are the terms of Competition, and when and where? No printed Newspaper-leaf, no farther light of any sort, to be met with in these Paper-bags! Or is the whole business one other of those whimsicalities and perverse inexplicabilities, whereby Herr Teufelsdrockh, meaning much or nothing, is pleased so often to play fast-and-loose with us? Here, indeed, at length, must the Editor give utterance to a painful suspicion, which, through late Chapters, has begun to haunt him; paralyzing any little enthusiasm that might still have rendered his thorny Biographical task a labor of love. It is a suspicion grounded perhaps on trifles, yet confirmed almost into certainty by the more and more discernible humoristico-satirical tendency of Teufelsdrockh, in whom underground humors and intricate sardonic rogueries, wheel within wheel, defy all reckoning: a suspicion, in one word, that these Autobiographical Documents are partly a mystification! What if many a so-called Fact were little better than a Fiction; if here we had no direct Cam143

Sartor Resartus era-obscura Picture of the Professor’s History; but only some more or less fantastic Adumbration, symbolically, perhaps significantly enough, shadowing forth the same! Our theory begins to be that, in receiving as literally authentic what was but hieroglyphically so, Hofrath Heuschrecke, whom in that case we scruple not to name Hofrath Nose-of-Wax, was made a fool of, and set adrift to make fools of others. Could it be expected, indeed, that a man so known for impenetrable reticence as Teufelsdrockh would all at once frankly unlock his private citadel to an English Editor and a German Hofrath; and not rather deceptively inlock both Editor and Hofrath in the labyrinthic tortuosities and covered-ways of said citadel (having enticed them thither), to see, in his halfdevilish way, how the fools would look? Of one fool, however, the Herr Professor will perhaps find himself short. On a small slip, formerly thrown aside as blank, the ink being all but invisible, we lately noticed, and with effort decipher, the following: “What are your historical Facts; still more your biographical? Wilt thou know a Man, above all a Mankind, by stringing together bead-rolls of what thou namest Facts? The Man is the spirit he worked in; not what he did, but what he became. Facts are engraved Hierograms, for which the fewest have the key. And then how your Blockhead (Dummkopf) studies not their Meaning; but simply whether they are well or ill cut, what he calls Moral or Immoral! Still worse is it with your Bungler (Pfuscher): such I have seen reading some Rousseau, with pretences of interpretation; and mistaking the ill-cut Serpent-of-Eternity for a common poisonous reptile.” Was the Professor apprehensive lest an Editor, selected as the present boasts himself, might mistake the Teufelsdrockh Serpent-of-Eternity in like manner? For which reason it was to be altered, not without underhand satire, into a plainer Symbol? Or is this merely one of his half-sophisms, half-truisms, which if he can but set on the back of a Figure, he cares not whither it gallop? We say not with certainty; and indeed, so strange is the Professor, can never say. If our suspicion be wholly unfounded, let his own questionable ways, not our necessary circumspectness bear the blame. But be this as it will, the somewhat exasperated and 144

Thomas Carlyle indeed exhausted Editor determines here to shut these Paper-bags for the present. Let it suffice that we know of Teufelsdrockh, so far, if “not what he did, yet what he became:” the rather, as his character has now taken its ultimate bent, and no new revolution, of importance, is to be looked for. The imprisoned Chrysalis is now a winged Psyche: and such, wheresoever be its flight, it will continue. To trace by what complex gyrations (flights or involuntary waftings) through the mere external Life-element, Teufelsdrockh, reaches his University Professorship, and the Psyche clothes herself in civic Titles, without altering her now fixed nature,—would be comparatively an unproductive task, were we even unsuspicious of its being, for us at least, a false and impossible one. His outward Biography, therefore, which, at the Blumine Lover’sLeap, we saw churned utterly into spray-vapor, may hover in that condition, for aught that concerns us here. Enough that by survey of certain “pools and plashes,” we have ascertained its general direction; do we not already know that, by one way and other, it has long since rained down again into a stream; and even now, at Weissnichtwo, flows deep and still, fraught with the Philosophy of Clothes, and visible to whoso will cast eye thereon? Over much invaluable matter, that lies scattered, like jewels among quarry-rubbish, in those Paper-catacombs, we may have occasion to glance back, and somewhat will demand insertion at the right place: meanwhile be our tiresome diggings therein suspended. If now, before reopening the great Clothes-Volume, we ask what our degree of progress, during these Ten Chapters, has been, towards right understanding of the ClothesPhilosophy, let not our discouragement become total. To speak in that old figure of the Hell-gate Bridge over Chaos, a few flying pontoons have perhaps been added, though as yet they drift straggling on the Flood; how far they will reach, when once the chains are straightened and fastened, can, at present, only be matter of conjecture. So much we already calculate: Through many a little loophole, we have had glimpses into the internal world of Teufelsdrockh; his strange mystic, almost magic Diagram of the Universe, and how it was gradually drawn, is not henceforth altogether dark to us. Those mysterious ideas 145

as suspected. as is our lot with Teufelsdrockh. in such an era? Perhaps in entering on Book Third. as it were preappointed for ClothesPhilosophy? To look through the Shows of things into Things themselves he is led and compelled. like oil out of water. from mingling in any Employment. and what shape it must assume with such a man. How all Nature and Life are but one Garment. will there be wanting between whiles some twinkling of a steady Polar Star. indeed. or Vestures. withstand him. threaten him with fearfullest destruction: only by victoriously penetrating into Things themselves can he find peace and a stronghold. he has no portion but Solitude. exhibits a man.Sartor Resartus on time. at least the arena it is to work in? Remark. almost like diluted madness. the outline of a whole Clothes-Philosophy. becomes less enigmatic: amid so much tumultuous obscurity. only a hieroglyphical truth. a “Living Garment. which merit consideration. allowing it even. in any public Communion. if he cannot cure it. The “Passivity” given him by birth is fostered by all turns of his fortune. and a life of Meditation. Everywhere cast out. he must wander. 146 . on whose rock-strata all the rest were based and built? Nay further. may by and by prove significant. for all the fantastic Dream-Grottos through which. do not a certain indomitable Defiance and yet a boundless Reverence seem to loom forth. nowise without meaning in such a matter. may we not say that Teufelsdrockh’s Biography. and are not wholly unintelligible with such. in all this. But is not this same looking through the Shows. discern some beckonings towards the true higher purport of such a Philosophy. on one task: that of enduring pain.” woven and ever a-weaving in the “Loom of Time. “ is not here. too. into the Things. the decisive Oneness he ascribes to Nature. let us hope. through long years. that the Character of the Man. The whole energy of his existence is directed. Thus everywhere do the Shows of things oppress him. Still more may his somewhat peculiar view of Nature. the courteous Reader is not utterly without guess whither he is bound: nor. even the first preliminary to a Philosophy of Clothes? Do we not. as the two mountain-summits.

amid all his perverse cloudiness. and worshipped it. what such. nowise to dig out and exhaust its wealth. and show them the mines. has more and more exhibited himself. with what force of vision and of heart he pierced into the mystery of the World. and a return to the savage state: all this our readers are now bent to discover. a celestial Essence thereby rendered visible: and while. however. the rather as he was no Adamite. What the man ultimately purposed by thus casting his Greek-fire into the general Wardrobe of the Universe. properly the gist and purport of Professor Teufelsdrockh’s Philosophy of Clothes. We are to guide our British Friends into the new Goldcountry. yet ever. in fact. with a true Platonic mysticism. Neither. in so capricious inexpressible a Work as this of the Professor’s. let each dig for his own behoof. like Rousseau. so far as Sense went. Be it remembered. under this. more or less complete. though under the meanest shapes. recommend either bodily or intellectual Nudity. and enrich himself. in any sense. can our course now more than formerly be straightforward. shape themselves into some ground-scheme of a Whole: 147 . with their tinsels. on the one hand. recognizing in the highest sensible phenomena. Teufelsdrockh. and could not. as detected to lie ready for evolving. rending and burning of Garments throughout the whole compass of Civilized Life and Speculation. Once there. should lead to. Significant Indications stand out here and there. only fresh or faded Raiment. he trod the old rags of Matter. which for the critical eye. which indeed remains for all time inexhaustible. that looks both widely and narrowly. he on the other everywhere exalted Spirit above all earthly principalities and powers. from an early part of this ClothesVolume. this is.Thomas Carlyle BOOK III CHAPTER I INCIDENT IN MODERN HISTORY A s a wonder-loving and wonder-seeking man. Striking it was. into the mire. step by step. that such purport is here not so much evolved. but at best leap by leap.

paste-horns. as the crown of long faithful sewing. floating in much wild matter about Perfectibility. “is not the Diet of Worms. George Fox’s making to himself a suit of Leather. and the Temple of Immensity. God-possessed. or any other Battle. for this poor Cordwainer. and a nameless flood of rubbish. and an honorable Mastership in Cordwainery. also an antique Inspired Volume. still less the Battle of Austerlitz. a Living Spirit belonging to him. or even Gods. and treated with some degree of ridicule by others: namely. was full of holy mystery to him. and dance with the girls. listened with un-affected tedium to his consultations. Peterloo. so that a leap from one to the other be possible. and advised him. but an incident passed carelessly over by most Historians.Sartor Resartus to select these with judgment. was one of those.’ Blind leaders of the blind! For what end were their tithes levied and eaten. through which. nevertheless. amid pincers. and (in our old figure) by chaining them together. Sitting in his stall. it could look upwards. to ‘drink beer. as in some periods it has chanced. across all the hulls of Ignorance and earthly Degradation. and their surplices and cassock148 .—was nowise satisfaction enough to such a mind: but ever amid the boring and hammering came tones from that far country. Waterloo. and by trade a Shoemaker. came Splendors and Terrors. coupled even with some prospect of victuals. under ruder or purer form. as through a window.” says Teufelsdrockh. “The Clergy of the neighborhood. has seemed worth clutching at:— “Perhaps the most remarkable incident in Modern History. shine through. in unspeakable Awfulness. as heretofore. This man. working on tanned hides. continues our only method. on their souls: who therefore are rightly accounted Prophets. to whom. the first of the Quakers. the Divine Idea of the Universe is pleased to manifest itself. as we said. was a Man. as the solution of such doubts. Among such lightspots. rosin. this youth had. a passable Bridge be effected: this. and discern its celestial Home. and. the ordained Watchers and Interpreters of that same holy mystery. unspeakable Beauty. and perhaps the post of Thirdborough in his hundred. wherein as Man he had been sent to minister. for what were their shovel-hats scooped out. swine-bristles. The task of a daily pair of shoes. the following.

but the World’s. with tears and a sacred scorn. had men known it. cannot I stitch myself one perennial suit of Leather!’ “Historical Oil-painting. more and more into Day.—’So bandaged. and cuts cowhides by unwonted patterns. and devout Prayer to God. what binds me here? Want. back to his Leather-parings and his Bible. if thou hast power of Thought! Why not. tatters. Yet often has it seemed to me as if such first outflashing of man’s Freewill. to lighten. the Chaotic Night that threatened to engulf him in its hindrances and its horrors. and emerged into the light of Heaven! That Leicester shoe-shop. held over that spot of God’s Earth. were properly the only grandeur there is in History. I can neither see nor move: not my own am I. therefore shall I not decide whether this subject were easy of execution on the canvas. Through long days and nights of silent agony.’ groaned he.—if Man were but a Patent Digester. and would not lie buried there. wild berries feed me. it struggled and wrestled. “is one of the Arts I never practiced. and the Mammon-god. want!—Ha. ‘with thousand requisitions. and such a church-repairing. and organing. as the giant spirit shook them to this hand and that. and hemmed in. was a holier place than any Vatican or Loretto-shrine. and for Clothes. Let some living Angelo or Rosa. and the Belly with its adjuncts the grand Reality? Fox turned from them. and tagrags. and other racketing. when he spreads out his cutting-board for the last time. Thy elbows jerk. the farewell service of his awl! Stitch away. I will to the woods: the hollow of a tree will lodge me. with seeing eye and understanding heart. obligations. and Worldworship. and Hell is deep: Man! bethink thee.” continues Teufelsdrockh. had been heaped over that Spirit: but it was a Spirit. thou noble Fox: every prick of that little instrument is pricking into the heart of Slavery. Mountains of encumbrance. and Heaven is high. and chaffering. and stitches them together into one continuous all-including Case. straps. higher than Ætna. to be free: how its prisonmountains heaved and swayed tumultuously. and hampered. with a man’s force. as in 149 . and Time flies fast.Thomas Carlyle aprons girt on. picture George Fox on that morning. of what? Will all the shoe-wages under the Moon ferry me across into that far Land of Light? Only Meditation can.

aware of his deep Sansculottism. who can avoid smiling at the earnestness and Boeotian simplicity (if indeed there be not an underhand satire in it). with the Archangel Smuggler.Sartor Resartus strong swimmer-strokes. a temple from which man’s dignity and divinity was scornfully preached abroad: but greater is the Leather Hull. any considerable class of the community. there is in broad Europe one Free Man. as D’Alembert asserts. in half-savage Pride. were the work done. was the greatest man of Antiquity. and greater than Diogenes himself: for he too stands on the adamantine basis of his Manhood. by way of testifying against the “Mammon-god. and for the Poor also a Gospel has been published. undervaluing the Earth.” and escaping from what he calls “Vanity’s Workhouse and Ragfair. Surely if. himself is no Quaker. then by stronger reason is George Fox the greatest of the Moderns. Great. with all his pacific tendencies. as a place to yield him warmth and food. my illustrious namesake. recommended to imitation! Does Teufelsdrockh anticipate that.” George Fox’s “perennial suit.—will sheathe themselves in closefitting cases of Leather? The idea is ridiculous in the ex150 . into lands of true Liberty. and every stroke is bearing thee across the Prison-ditch. and thou art he! “Thus from the lowest depth there is a path to the loftiest height. At the same time. in that scene at the North Cape. valuing it rather. with a still Strength. only that he wanted Decency. and not in Scorn but in Love. yet not. as clearly perhaps as he durst in Weissnichtwo. within which Vanity holds her Workhouse and Ragfair. there is more meant in this passage than meets the ear. truly. in the Professor’s ambiguous way. with which that “Incident” is here brought forward.” where doubtless some of them are toiled and whipped and hoodwinked sufficiently. and dwells in an element of Mercy and Worship. he looks Heavenward from his Earth.” with all that it held. Diogenes. for the same sermon was preached there. such as the Cynic’s Tub did nowise witness. exhibit fire-arms? For us. casting aside all props and shoars. did not we see him. reproduce it now? Not out of blind sectarian partisanship: Teufelsdrockh. in a discussion on the Perfectibility of Society. was that Tub. and. in this age of refinement. has been worn quite into ashes for nigh two centuries: why.

Thomas Carlyle treme. Will Majesty lay aside its robes of state, and Beauty its frills and train-gowns, for a second skin of tanned hide? By which change Huddersfield and Manchester, and Coventry and Paisley, and the Fancy-Bazaar, were reduced to hungry solitudes; and only Day and Martin could profit. For neither would Teufelsdrockh’s mad daydream, here as we presume covertly intended, of levelling Society (levelling it indeed with a vengeance, into one huge drowned marsh!), and so attaining the political effects of Nudity without its frigorific or other consequences,—be thereby realized. Would not the rich man purchase a waterproof suit of Russia Leather; and the high-born Belle step forth in red or azure morocco, lined with shamoy: the black cowhide being left to the Drudges and Gibeonites of the world; and so all the old Distinctions be re-established? Or has the Professor his own deeper intention; and laughs in his sleeve at our strictures and glosses, which indeed are but a part thereof?

CHAPTER II CHURCH-CLOTHES
Not less questionable is his Chapter on Church-Clothes, which has the farther distinction of being the shortest in the Volume. We here translate it entire:— “By Church-Clothes, it need not be premised that I mean infinitely more than Cassocks and Surplices; and do not at all mean the mere haberdasher Sunday Clothes that men go to Church in. Far from it! Church-Clothes are, in our vocabulary, the Forms, the Vestures, under which men have at various periods embodied and represented for themselves the Religious Principle; that is to say, invested the Divine Idea of the World with a sensible and practically active Body, so that it might dwell among them as a living and life-giving word. “These are unspeakably the most important of all the vestures and garnitures of Human Existence. They are first spun and woven, I may say, by that wonder of wonders, society; for it is still only when ‘two or three are gathered 151

Sartor Resartus together,’ that Religion, spiritually existent, and indeed indestructible, however latent, in each, first outwardly manifests itself (as with ‘cloven tongues of fire’), and seeks to be embodied in a visible Communion and Church Militant. Mystical, more than magical, is that Communing of Soul with Soul, both looking heavenward: here properly Soul first speaks with Soul; for only in looking heavenward, take it in what sense you may, not in looking earthward, does what we can call Union, mutual Love, Society, begin to be possible. How true is that of Novalis: ‘It is certain, my Belief gains quite infinitely the moment I can convince another mind thereof’! Gaze thou in the face of thy Brother, in those eyes where plays the lambent fire of Kindness, or in those where rages the lurid conflagration of Anger; feel how thy own so quiet Soul is straightway involuntarily kindled with the like, and ye blaze and reverberate on each other, till it is all one limitless confluent flame (of embracing Love, or of deadly-grappling Hate); and then say what miraculous virtue goes out of man into man. But if so, through all the thick-plied hulls of our Earthly Life; how much more when it is of the Divine Life we speak, and inmost me is, as it were, brought into contact with inmost me! “Thus was it that I said, the Church Clothes are first spun and woven by Society; outward Religion originates by Society, Society becomes possible by Religion. Nay, perhaps, every conceivable Society, past and present, may well be figured as properly and wholly a Church, in one or other of these three predicaments: an audibly preaching and prophesying Church, which is the best; second, a Church that struggles to preach and prophesy, but cannot as yet, till its Pentecost come; and third and worst, a Church gone dumb with old age, or which only mumbles delirium prior to dissolution. Whoso fancies that by Church is here meant Chapter-houses and Cathedrals, or by preaching and prophesying, mere speech and chanting, let him,” says the oracular Professor, “read on, light of heart (getrosten Muthes). “But with regard to your Church proper, and the ChurchClothes specially recognized as Church-Clothes, I remark, fearlessly enough, that without such Vestures and sacred Tissues Society has not existed, and will not exist. For if Government is, so to speak, the outward skin of the Body 152

Thomas Carlyle Politic, holding the whole together and protecting it; and all your Craft-Guilds, and Associations for Industry, of hand or of head, are the Fleshly Clothes, the muscular and osseous Tissues (lying under such skin), whereby Society stands and works;—then is Religion the inmost Pericardial and Nervous Tissue, which ministers Life and warm Circulation to the whole. Without which Pericardial Tissue the Bones and Muscles (of Industry) were inert, or animated only by a Galvanic vitality; the skin would become a shrivelled pelt, or fast-rotting rawhide; and Society itself a dead carcass,—deserving to be buried. Men were no longer Social, but Gregarious; which latter state also could not continue, but must gradually issue in universal selfish discord, hatred, savage isolation, and dispersion;—whereby, as we might continue to say, the very dust and dead body of Society would have evaporated and become abolished. Such, and so all-important, all-sustaining, are the ChurchClothes to civilized or even to rational men. “Meanwhile, in our era of the World, those same ChurchClothes have gone sorrowfully out-at-elbows; nay, far worse, many of them have become mere hollow Shapes, or Masks, under which no living Figure or Spirit any longer dwells; but only spiders and unclean beetles, in horrid accumulation, drive their trade; and the mask still glares on you with its glass eyes, in ghastly affectation of Life,—some generation-and-half after Religion has quite withdrawn from it, and in unnoticed nooks is weaving for herself new Vestures, wherewith to reappear, and bless us, or our sons or grandsons. As a Priest, or Interpreter of the Holy, is the noblest and highest of all men, so is a Sham-priest (Scheinpriester) the falsest and basest; neither is it doubtful that his Canonicals, were they Popes’ Tiaras, will one day be torn from him, to make bandages for the wounds of mankind; or even to burn into tinder, for general scientific or culinary purposes. “All which, as out of place here, falls to be handled in my Second Volume, On the Palingenesia, or Newbirth of Society; which volume, as treating practically of the Wear, Destruction, and Retexture of Spiritual Tissues, or Garments, forms, properly speaking, the Transcendental or ultimate Portion of this my work on Clothes, and is already in a state of forwardness.” 153

Sartor Resartus And herewith, no farther exposition, note, or commentary being added, does Teufelsdrockh, and must his Editor now, terminate the singular chapter on Church-Clothes! such degree of coherence as it will assume. By way of proem, take the following not injudicious remarks:— “The benignant efficacies of Concealment,” cries our Professor, “who shall speak or sing? Silence and secrecy! Altars might still be raised to them (were this an altarbuilding time) for universal worship. Silence is the element in which great things fashion themselves together; that at length they may emerge, full-formed and majestic, into the daylight of Life, which they are thenceforth to rule. Not William the Silent only, but all the considerable men I have known, and the most undiplomatic and unstrategic of these, forbore to babble of what they were creating and projecting. Nay, in thy own mean perplexities, do thou thyself but hold thy tongue for one day: on the morrow, how much clearer are thy purposes and duties; what wreck and rubbish have those mute workmen within thee swept away, when intrusive noises were shut out! Speech is too often not, as the Frenchman defined it, the art of concealing Thought; but of quite stifling and suspending Thought, so that there is none to conceal. Speech too is great, but not the greatest. As the Swiss 154

CHAPTER III SYMBOLS
Probably it will elucidate the drift of these foregoing obscure utterances, if we here insert somewhat of our Professor’s speculations on Symbols. To state his whole doctrine, indeed, were beyond our compass: nowhere is he more mysterious, impalpable, than in this of “Fantasy being the organ of the Godlike;” and how “Man thereby, though based, to all seeming, on the small Visible, does nevertheless extend down into the infinite deeps of the Invisible, of which Invisible, indeed, his Life is properly the bodying forth.” Let us, omitting these high transcendental aspects of the matter, study to glean (whether from the Paper-bags or the Printed Volume) what little seems logical and practical, and cunningly arrange it into

what is man himself but a Symbol of 155 . of all good manners and good morals? Like other plants. By Symbols. more or less distinctly and directly. Silence is of Eternity. or simple Seal-emblem. the Marriage-bower. and encircle man’s life with the fragrance and hues of Heaven. Schweigen ist golden (Speech is silvern. and becomes incorporated therewith. when we view the fair clustering flowers that overwreathe. buried from the eye of the sun. and the Silence fit and noble. the Infinite is made to blend itself with the Finite. and as it were. Let the sun shine on it. made happy. Silence is golden). and no flower will glad thee. by Silence and by Speech acting together.Thomas Carlyle Inscription says: Sprechen ist silbern. what hand will not smite the foul plunderer that grubs them up by the roots. “Bees will not work except in darkness. the commonest Truth stands out to us proclaimed with quite new emphasis. and connected with still greater things. to stand visible. is the wondrous agency of Symbols. some embodiment and revelation of the Infinite. the root withers. Thought will not work except in Silence: neither will Virtue work except in Secrecy. O my Friends. In the Symbol proper. made wretched: He everywhere finds himself encompassed with Symbols. and. comes a double significance. And if both the Speech be itself high. with grinning. attainable there. Virtue will not grow unless its root be hidden. shows us the dung they flourish in! Men speak much of the Printing Press with its Newspapers: du Himmel! what are these to Clothes and the Tailor’s Goose? “Of kin to the so incalculable influences of Concealment. grunting satisfaction. or as I might rather express it: Speech is of Time. Let not thy left hand know what thy right hand doeth! Neither shalt thou prate even to thy own heart of ‘those secrets known to all. “For it is here that Fantasy with her mystic wonderland plays into the small prose domain of Sense. how expressive will their union be! Thus in many a painted Device. what we can call a Symbol. here therefore. for example. In a Symbol there is concealment and yet revelation. nay do but look at it privily thyself. accordingly. is man guided and commanded. there is ever.’ Is not Shame (Schaam) the soil of all Virtue. recognized as such or not recognized: the Universe is but one vast Symbol of God. nay if thou wilt have it.

a revelation to Sense of the mystic god-given force that is in him. has fancied himself to be most things. in his time. you had but to bid him open his eyes and look. bewitched. is not all that he does symbolical. the most owlish.” elsewhere observes the Professor. and Chivalries. down even to an animated heap of Glass: but to fancy himself a dead IronBalance for weighing Pains and Pleasures on. and only a kind of Digestive. but cannot he fathom the Doctrine of Motives. of all the owleries that ever possessed him. “Man is by birth somewhat of an owl.” “Man. priest-ridden. by act and word? Not a Hut he builds but is the visible embodiment of a Thought. Alas. in the transcendental sense. or the history of any man. and Reformations. filled with hay and thistles to be weighed against each other.’ which he. has not perhaps the Motivegrinder himself been in Love? Did he never stand so much as a contested Election? Leave him to Time. was it hitherto that man’s history.’ preaches.Sartor Resartus God. if we consider it. too. and the medicating virtue of Nature. and cunningly compute these. but bears visible record of invisible things. the ‘Messias of Nature. symbolical as well as real. befooled. Fantastic tricks enough man has played. “not 156 . is that of your actually existing Motive-Millwrights. And now the Genius of Mechanism smothers him worse than any Nightmare did. In Earth and in Heaven he can see nothing but Mechanism. and mechanize them to grind the other way? “Were he not. in which time. bedevilled.” says the Professor elsewhere. hope in nothing else: the world would indeed grind him to pieces.” “Yes. in all ages. poor devil! spectres are appointed to haunt him: one age he is hag-ridden. Mechanic life remains. and Reigns of Terror? Nay. which we have here cut short on the verge of the inane. Friends. as he can. went on by calculated or calculable ‘Motives’? What make ye of your Christianities. the next. has fear for nothing else. a ‘Gospel of Freedom. and looks long-eared enough. in quite antipodal contrast with these high-soaring delineations. but is. There stands he. was reserved for this his latter era. In which country. purblinded by enchantment. Perhaps. as has been said. his Universe one huge Manger. and Marseillaise Hymns. till the Soul is nigh choked out of him.

the vessel it drinks out of? Ever in the dullest existence there is a sheen either of Inspiration or of Madness (thou partly hast it in thy choice. with its colorgiving retina. military Banners everywhere. and has his being: those ages. healthy or diseased. necessary divineness. that they have both an extrinsic and intrinsic value. was in that clouted Shoe. but Fantasy is thy eye. Nay. stand. which. moreover. glorying in that nickname of Beggars.Thomas Carlyle our Logical. or even worth. I remark farther. What. for instance. lives. I might say. but our Imaginative one is King over us. though against King Philip himself? Intrinsic significance these had none: only extrinsic. there is ever something mystical and borrowing of the Godlike. the stupidest heraldic Coats-of-arms. too. which the Peasants bore aloft with them as ensign in their Bauernkrieg (Peasants’ War)? Or in the Wallet-and-staff round which the Netherland Gueux. For is not a Symbol ever. consciously or unconsciously. heroically rallied and prevailed. or stood. when Kaiser Joseph pocketed their Iron Crown. Under a like category. in size and commercial value little differing from a horse-shoe? It is in and through Symbols that man. are accounted the noblest which can the best recognize symbolical worth. The Understanding is indeed thy window. what is Sense but the implement of Fantasy. as above noted. would not have brought above three groschen? Did not the whole Hungarian Nation rise. like some tumultuous moon-stirred Atlantic. which of the two). that gleams in from the circumambient Eternity. but have ac157 . Priest and Prophet to lead us heavenward. too clear thou canst not make it. in which union itself. an implement. Mensurative faculty. and generally all national or other sectarian Costumes and Customs: they have no intrinsic. to him who has eyes for it. oftenest the former only. as was sagaciously observed. which they called their Flag. however. some dimmer or clearer revelation of the Godlike? “Of Symbols. even for the basest Sensualist. or Magician and Wizard to lead us hellward. and prize it the highest. and colors with its own hues our little islet of Time. had you sold it at any market-cross. works. Have not I myself known five hundred living soldiers sabred into crows’-meat for a piece of glazed cotton. as the accidental Standards of multitudes more or less sacredly uniting together.

and his Life. and worship the Same: I mean religious Symbols. superadd to it new divineness. Higher has the human Thought not yet reached: this is Christianity and Christendom. and the like. in the Death of the Just. and all men can recognize a present God. had no meaning save an accidental extrinsic one. in some instances of Freedom. as of Victory. a Symbol of quite perennial. and some gleam of the latter peering through. and from age to age. the Godlike rendered visible. and so from day to day. “Highest of all Symbols are those wherein the Artist or Poet has risen into Prophet. through the Time-Figure (Zeitbild)! Then is it fit that men unite there. “Another matter it is. the Divine Idea of Duty. Let but the Godlike manifest itself to Sense. infinite charac158 . Here too may an extrinsic value gradually superadd itself: thus certain Iliads. But nobler than all in this kind are the Lives of heroic godinspired Men. however. and is of itself fit that men should unite round it. Various enough have been such religious Symbols. many with only an extrinsic. “Of this latter sort are all true Works of Art: in them (if thou know a Work of Art from a Daub of Artifice) wilt thou discern Eternity looking through Time. as men stood in this stage of culture or the other. Nay the highest ensign that men ever met and embraced under. of heroic Daring. when your Symbol has intrinsic meaning. resting over the beloved face which now knows thee no more. the Cross itself. for what other Work of Art is so divine? In Death too. more or less visibly. of Right. have. what we call Religions. Nevertheless through all these there glimmers something of a Divine Idea. may we not discern symbolic meaning? In that divinely transfigured Sleep.Sartor Resartus quired an extrinsic one. and what followed therefrom. If thou ask to what height man has carried it in this manner. as through military Banners themselves. and could worse or better body forth the Godlike: some Symbols with a transient intrinsic worth. as the last perfection of a Work of Art. attained quite new significance. in three thousand years. look on our divinest Symbol: on Jesus of Nazareth. read (if thou canst for tears) the confluence of Time with Eternity. and his Biography. let but Eternity look. and worship together before such Symbol.

therefore. and anew made manifest. as the average of matters goes. ‘of little price. and truly. For all things. like all terrestrial Garments. Homer’s Epos has not ceased to be true. the Poet and inspired Maker. or even desecrates them. and Symbols. even Celestial Luminaries. then plant into the deep infinite faculties of man. “Small is this which thou tellest me. as Time adds much to the sacredness of Symbols. and many an African MumboJumbo and Indian Pawaw be utterly abolished. “When. couldst thou conjure back into these wooden tools the divine virtue they once held. “But. what will grow there. wax old.Thomas Carlyle ter. “Of this thing. so likewise in his progress he at length defaces. but shines in the distance. and gently remove it. on the whole. wouldst thou plant for Year and Day. neither perhaps now are. his Self-love and Arithmetical Understanding.—ED. his Fantasy and Heart. their decline. have their rise. then plant into his shallow superficial faculties. yet also smaller and smaller. 159 . Meanwhile.’ A right Conjurer might I name thee. must withdraw into dimness. that the Pyx has become a most foolish box. we account him Legislator and wise who can so much as tell when a Symbol has grown old. much more atmospheric meteors. So likewise a day comes when the Runic Thor. A Hierarch. as the last English Coronation* I was preparing. “I read in their Newspapers that the ‘Champion of England. be certain: wouldst thou plant for Eternity. can shape new Symbols.” concludes this wonderful Professor. had brought it so far that he could now ‘mount his horse with little assistance. that the Royal Sceptre is but a piece of gilt wood. as Ancient Pistol thought. if clearer and clearer. It needs a scientific telescope. Prometheus-like.’ I said to myself: Here also we have a Symbol *That of George IV. however. yet it is no longer our Epos. like a receding Star. and Pontiff of the World will we call him. whose significance will ever demand to be anew inquired into. who. Such too will not always be wanting. their culmination. it needs to be reinterpreted and artificially brought near us. before we can so much as know that it was a Sun. with his Eddas. and bring new Fire from Heaven to fix it there.’ he who has to offer battle to the Universe for his new King.

entitled Institute for the Repression of Population. famished into delirium. this Institute of his. the Hofrath founds. then. universally eating one another. move whithersoever you may. has his own notions about human dignity. to a certain Tract of Hofrath Heuschrecke’s. and machinery of Corresponding Boards and the like. if you shake them not aside. that his zeal almost literally eats him up. open mouths opening wider and wider. nay. Enough for us to understand that Heuschrecke is a disciple of Malthus. as a speculative Radical. which we admire little. stuffed into the Bag Pisces. which rather copiously fringe it. threatening to accumulate. nothing but a grim shadow of Hunger. remark that Teufelsdrockh. or proposes to found. Nowhere. evidently in Teufelsdrockh’s hand. To make air for himself in which strangulation. to hoodwink. are not the tatters and rags of superannuated wornout Symbols (in this Ragfair of a World) dropping off everywhere. First. Into the Hofrath’s Institute. and so zealous for the doctrine. choking enough to a benevolent heart. and a perceptible smell of aloetic drugs). to halter. in that quarter of his intellectual world. but of the marginal Notes. On the blank cover of Heuschrecke’s Tract we find the following indistinctly engrossed:— 160 CHAPTER IV HELOTAGE At this point we determine on adverting shortly. It is only with our Professor’s comments thereon that we concern ourselves. a world to terminate by the frightfullest consummation: by its too dense inhabitants. A deadly fear of Population possesses the Hofrath. to tether you. Not indeed for the sake of the tract itself. dishonorably enough (with torn leaves. A few of these may be in their right place here. Alas. which lies. with its extraordinary . is there light. undoubtedly akin to the more diluted forms of Madness. as the best he can do. and perhaps produce suffocation?” schemes. something like a fixed idea. that the Zahdarm palaces and courtesies have not made him forgetful of the Futteral cottages. or rather reverting. we shall not so much as glance.Sartor Resartus well-nigh superannuated.

endeavoring towards inward Harmony. be they high or low? Highest of all. like thy soul. thou wilt see the splendor of Heaven spring forth from the humblest depths of Earth. encrusted must it stand with the thick adhesions and defacements of Labor: and thy body. all weather-tanned. on whom the lot fell. I honor: all else is chaff and dust. indefeasibly royal. and even because we must pity as well as love thee! Hardly-entreated Brother! For us was thy back so bent. like a light shining in great darkness. not daily bread. when I find both dignities united.Thomas Carlyle “Two men I honor. but the bread of Life. but inspired Thinker. have Guidance. could such now anywhere be met with. Freedom. was not to know freedom. wherein notwithstanding lies a cunning virtue. toil on: thou art in thy duty. Yet toil on. for us were thy straight limbs and fingers so deformed: thou wert our Conscript. and fighting our battles wert so marred. “A second man I honor. Sublimer in this world know I nothing than a Peasant Saint. for it is the face of a Man living manlike. Oh. For in thee too lay a god-created Form. Venerable too is the rugged face. in all their degrees. and he that must toil outwardly for the lowest of man’s wants.” 161 . not earthly Craftsman only. Is not he too in his duty. but it was not to be unfolded. crooked. coarse. when his outward and his inward endeavor are one: when we can name him Artist. must not the high and glorious toil for him in return. thou toilest for the altogether indispensable. “Unspeakably touching is it. however. be out of it who may. which let the wind blow whither it listeth. is also toiling inwardly for the highest. and still more highly: Him who is seen toiling for the spiritually indispensable. who with heaven-made Implement conquers Heaven for us! If the poor and humble toil that we have Food. Such a one will take thee back to Nazareth itself. besoiled. Immortality?—These two. and makes her man’s. First. the toilworn Craftsman that with earth-made Implement laboriously conquers the Earth. that he have Light. and no third. through all his outward endeavors. but the more venerable for thy rudeness. as of the Sceptre of this Planet. for daily bread. revealing this. by act or by word. with its rude intelligence. Venerable to me is the hard Hand.

or even of earthly knowledge. in the haggard darkness. which is worse. no faithful workman finds his task a pastime. yet richly such infirm Paupers. dreading no evil of them. Have them salted and barrelled. and speared and spitted them. some three days annually might suffice to shoot all the ablebodied Paupers that had accumulated within the year. now after the invention of firearms. Alas. in his smoky cribs. with all diligence. and of the deepest.” writes he farther on. in workhouses and elsewhere. “there must be something wrong. this I call a tragedy. could not you victual therewith. The miserable fraction of Science which our united Mankind.Sartor Resartus And again: “It is not because of his toils that I lament for the poor: we must all toil. while the Body stands so broad and brawny. and standing armies. and fitful glitterings of cloud-skirted Dreams. that no ray of heavenly. Fear and Indignation bear him company. Herr Hofrath. bring from twenty to as high as two hundred Friedrichs d’or: such is his worth to the world. if not Army and Navy. and went out and hunted down their Helots. Let Governments think of this. like two spectres. but on earth never to be unfolded!— That there should one Man die ignorant who had capacity for Knowledge. should visit him. how much easier were such a hunt! Perhaps in the most thickly peopled country. might see good to keep alive?” “And yet. or steal (howsoever we name our stealing). But what I do mourn over is. imparted to all?” Quite in an opposite strain is the following: “The old Spartans had a wiser method. that the lamp of his soul should go out. A full-formed Horse will. when they grew too numerous. was this too a Breath of God. in a wide Universe of Nescience. why is not this. must the Soul lie blinded. The poor is hungry and athirst. With our improved fashions of hunting. as by some computations it does. but for him also the Heavens send Sleep. The expense were trifling: nay the very carcasses would pay it. in any market. bestowed in Heaven. A full-formed Man is not 162 . almost annihilated! Alas. has acquired. but only. but for him also there is food and drink: he is heavy-laden and weary. stupefied. a clear dewy heaven of Rest envelops him. dwarfed. as enlightened Charity. were it to happen more than twenty times in the minute.

if you lend him Earth. will enlist. I should say. who. guide onwards those superfluous masses of indomitable living Valor. till it will grow no more? How thick stands your Population in the Pampas and Savannas of America. that same Pericardial Nervous Tissue (as we named it) of Religion. but the world could afford him a round sum would he simply engage to go and hang himself. which of the two was the more cunningly devised article. hold us from Dispersion. and even direct utterances. not now with the battle-axe and warchariot. from fifty to a hundred Horses!” “True. in one year. but with the steam engine and ploughshare? Where are they?—Preserving their Game!” CHAPTER V THE PHOENIX Putting which four singular Chapters together. as I have understood it. thou Gold-Hofrath. is worth. even as an Engine? Good Heavens! A white European Man. on both slopes of the Altaic chain. properly so called. to be as good as extinct. standing on his two Legs. we come upon the startling yet not quite unlooked-for conclusion. when their home is grown too narrow. and.Thomas Carlyle only worth nothing to the world. with his two five-fingered Hands at his shackle-bones. will feed himself and nine others. and alongside of them numerous hints. and universal national. like Fire-pillars. in the central Platform of Asia. civil. scattered over these Writings of his. where now are the Hengsts and Alarics of our stillglowing. the Curragh of Kildare? One man. Alas. round ancient Carthage. and in the interior of Africa. at this juncture. that Teufelsdrockh is one of those who consider Society. and that only the gregarious feelings. Greece. domestic and personal war! He says expressly: “For the last three centuries. and old inherited habitudes. Turkey. in Spain. where lies the Life-essence of 163 . Nevertheless. and miraculous Head on his shoulders.” cries the Professor elsewhere: “too crowded indeed! Meanwhile. Crim Tartary. what portion of this inconsiderable terraqueous Globe have ye actually tilled and delved. above all for the last three quarters of a century. still-expanding Europe. equipped.

“is the universally arrogated Virtue. from obesity and apoplexy. of Hunger and Overwork. or is it only from the mystic elevation of a German Wahngasse that such wonders are visible? Teufelsdrockh contends that the aspect of a “deceased or expiring Society” fronts us everywhere. eat you your wages. Once-sacred Symbols fluttering as empty Pageants. neither indeed will they endure. the state fallen speechless. and Society. as from tavern-waiters who expect to put it in the bill. Leave us alone of your guidance.Sartor Resartus Society. like neglected. long pining. has been smote at and perforated. turned against his neighbor. at length. isolated. “What. galvanize as you may. are there many “observant eyes.” cries he again. and sleep! “Thus. such light is darker than darkness. The Highest in rank. whereof men grudge even the expense.” belonging to practical men in England or elsewhere. with Cook for Evangelist? Where your Priest has no tongue but for plate-licking: and your high Guides and Governors cannot guide. scarcely. the state shrunken into a Police-Office. because. needfully and needlessly. till now it is quite rent into shreds.” continues he. can be regarded as defunct. so that whoso runs may read. clutches what he can get. but only a far cunninger sort. and Overgrowth. no steel knives. Communion. too. still more wretchedly. “does an observant eye discern everywhere that saddest spectacle: The Poor perishing. can be employed? Where Friendship. diabetic. not so much as the Idea of a common Home.” “Call ye that a Society. “where there is no longer any Social Idea extant. regardless of his neighbor. and cries ‘Mine!’ and calls it Peace. for example. without honor from the Lowest. in the cut-purse and cut-throat Scramble. and your holiest Sacramental Supper is a smoking Tavern Dinner. which have descried these phenomena. foundered Draught-Cattle.” says he. galvanic sprawlings are not life. with a little mouth-honor. straitened to get its pay!” We might ask. but only of a common over-crowded Lodging-house? Where each. Satiety. but on all hands hear it passionately proclaimed: Laissez faire. of Idleness. a World becoming dismantled: in one word. the Rich. for those spasmodic. has become an incredible tradition. almost the sole remain164 . beyond two days. consumptive.

it requires but to be stated in such scenes to make proselytes enough. in all kinds. “what can follow but that the Body Politic be decently interred. “Do we not see a little subdivision of the grand Utilitarian Armament come to light even in insulated England? A living nucleus.— who sees not that. and everywhere prescribe it?” But what then? Are we returning. the venerable Corpse is to be burnt. Fools! Were your Superiors worthy to govern. where. and dissever and destroy most existing Institutions of Society. it now needs no Preaching. reverence for them were even your only possible freedom. and in every European country. Utilitarians. within the last fifty years? If now in all countries.” says Teufelsdrockh. it has ceased to flourish. and sunk to Journalists and the popular mass.’ Suspicion of ‘Servility. Or. does at length appear there also. the doctrine everywhere known. and enthusiastically laid to heart? The fit pabulum. and so far in the rear of the others as to fancy itself the van. if unjust rebellion. nowise without their corresponding workshop strength and ferocity. properly as the inconsiderable fag-end. the very dog-leech is anxious to disavow. why parade it. and saturnalian revelries from the most. seems a thing which has some time ago ceased to be doubtful. or indeed to exist. Utilitarians enough I see marching with its bier. and chanting loud paeans. Our European Mechanizers are a sect of boundless diffusion. so the reason is. will ultimately carry their point. and under curious phasis. and you worthy to obey. but is in full universal Action. to avoid putrescence? Liberals. here among ourselves. to the state of Nature? “The Soul Politic having departed. for a certain rugged workshop intellect and heart. that these men. Liberals.—Admirably calculated for destroying. as Rousseau prayed. that will attract and grow. is rebellion. in plain words. amid wailings from some. towards the funeral pile. activity. 165 . of these days? For some half-century. except perhaps England. among Thinkers.’ of reverence for Superiors. in these times. or whatsoever they are called. at some time or other. it has been the thing you name ‘Independence. Independence. Economists. as hereby it no longer preaches. and cooperative spirit: has not Utilitarianism flourished in high places of Thought.Thomas Carlyle ing Catholic Virtue.

” adds he.” full of beetles and spiders. is but Job’s-news to the humane reader. will effectually enough annihilate the past Forms of Society. whether by silent assiduous corrosion. threatening to strip us bare! “The World. and now sat waiting the issue. and say to the Spirit of the Time: Turn back. of Knowledge and of Life. or open quicker combustion. is under a process of devastation and waste.”—we feel entitled to conclude him even willing that much should be thrown to the Devil. yet glaring out on him. we are at this hour in a most critical condition. For the present.” Nay. drawing his own inferences from what stands written. which. conjecture that Teufelsdrockh. if not even Placidity? Did we not hear him complain that the World was a “huge Ragfair.” says he. “who can hinder it. I command thee?—Wiser were it that we yielded to the Inevitable and Inexorable. it is contemplated that when man’s whole Spiritual Interests are once divested. so 166 . as the case chances. while it was yet time. who is there that can clutch into the wheelspokes of Destiny. “the water. with his natural diabolico-angelical Indifference. “Nevertheless. but the sounder Rags among them be quilted together into one huge Irish watch-coat for the defence of the Body only!”—This.” cries Teufelsdrockh. like to drift him in. we think. till the whole World-kennel will be rabid: then woe to the Huntsmen.” Thus.” and the “rags and tatters of old Symbols” were raining down everywhere. might not an attentive Editor. what with the so hateful “empty Masks. these innumerable stript-off Garments shall mostly be burnt. “as it needs must. beleaguered by that boundless “Armament of Mechanizers” and Unbelievers. individually had yielded to this same “Inevitable and Inexorable” heartily enough. and suffocate him? What with those “unhunted Helots” of his. from their glass eyes. with or without their whips! They should have given the quadrupeds water. and accounted even this the best. namely. if Professor Teufelsdrockh can be relied on. “with a ghastly affectation of life. replace them with what it may.Sartor Resartus only not for rebuilding! It spreads like a sort of Dogmadness. and the uneven sic vos non vobis pressure and hard-crashing collision he is pleased to discern in existing things.

the Pulpit. should go forth to do her work. est devant nous. “For the rest.” Indeed. with its cunning mechanisms and stupendous structures.—to tread down old ruinous Palaces and Temples with her broad hoof. overspreading this little Globe. “Society. she herself. that the monster Utilitaria.” says he. The golden age. concerning which and whom so much were to be said: “L’age d’or. will there not be sparks flying! Alas. indeed. through perpetual metamorphoses. which you call dead Society. and like moths consumed there.” he would consent. foot-shackles. you need not ask. to assume a nobler. is but her mortal coil which she has shuffled off. Still also have we to fear that incautious beards will get singed. there is Society. is Before us. 167 . and moderated by nose-rings. have already been licked into that high-eddying Flame. namely. and reaching upwards to Heaven and downwards to Gehenna: for always. The law of Perseverance is among the deepest in man: by nature he hates change. held back. some millions of men.”— Teufelsdrockh himself being one of the loom-treadles? Elsewhere he quotes without censure that strange aphorism of Saint Simon’s. in what year of grace such Phoenix-cremation will be completed. sacred Symbols as idle Pageants. in unnoticed nooks. with a tragic solemnity. and every conceivable modification of rope. of a God and of a Devil. seldom will he quit his old house till it has actually fallen about his ears. which a blind tradition has hitherto placed in the Past. weaving for herself new Vestures. and the Gallows. has to live till Time also merge in Eternity. halters. that new and better might be built! Remarkable in this point of view are the following sentences. qu’une aveugle tradition a place jusqu’ici dans le passe. till the whole were trodden down.”—But listen again:— “When the Phoenix is fanning her funeral pyre. and among them such as a Napoleon. in fairer and fairer development. or there it will be. “is not dead: that Carcass. Wheresoever two or three Living Men are gathered together. we already heard him speak of “Religion. it has two authentic Revelations. under one or the other figure.Thomas Carlyle it were but done gently! Safe himself in that “Pinnacle of Weissnichtwo. Thus have I seen Solemnities linger as Ceremonies.

a noble natural Courtesy shines through him. from 168 . finally. than of a solid householder paying scotand-lot in a Christian country. restricted to the duty of Indicator. and no longer fighting but working. nay brightening London-smoke itself into gold vapor. for his services. And then. bad as she is. will not the judicious reader shake his head. Teufelsdrockh. would Destiny offer Mankind. and only by the rich? In Good-breeding. the fire-creation should be accomplished. what time the Phoenix Death-Birth itself will require. and man to whom hitherto. though a Sansculottist. say two centuries of convulsion and conflagration. more or less vivid. say or think: From a Doctor utriusque Juris. which differs.—Meanwhile. tobacco and gukguk. Society. rainbow-dyed Aurora out of mere aqueous clouds. in the faith that she is a Phoenix.Sartor Resartus to the extent of three hundred years and more after all life and sacredness had evaporated out of them. has given not only food and raiment (of a kind). content that old sick Society should be deliberately burnt (alas. beautifying his vagaries. like sunlight. that after. with quite other fuel than spice-wood). as from the crucible of an alchemist.—were it not perhaps prudent in Mankind to strike the bargain?” Thus is Teufelsdrockh. titular Professor in a University. depends on unseen contingencies. making a rosyfingered. and that a new heaven-born young one will rise out of her ashes! We ourselves. is in practice probably the politest man extant: his whole heart and life are penetrated and informed with the spirit of politeness. CHAPTER VI OLD CLOTHES As mentioned above. if at all. Hear in what earnest though fantastic wise he expresses himself on this head:— “Shall Courtesy be done only to the rich. but books. Meanwhile. and less of a blind trust in the future which resembles that rather of a philosophical Fatalist and Enthusiast. shall forbear commentary. yet more in sorrow than in anger. and we to find ourselves again in a Living Society. we expected more gratitude to his benefactress. and reproachfully.

when we lay our hands on a human Body. I would fain carry it farther than most do. only as it gracefully remembers the rights of others. a practical deception: for how often does the Body appropriate what was meant for the Cloth only! Whoso would avoid falsehood. “For whether thou bear a sceptre or a sledge-hammer. and whereas the English Johnson only bowed to every Clergyman. to Empty. Bending before men is a reverence done to this Revelation in the Flesh. Of a truth. and too often the bow is but pocketed by the former. till at length a rude-visaged. or who felt not that the clod he broke was created in Heaven.Thomas Carlyle High-breeding. For there is a Devil dwells in man. Nay. the visible Manifestation and Impersonation of the Divinity? And yet. is not this thy brother alive? ‘There is but one temple in the world. with so much else. to do reverence to those Shells and outer Husks of the Body. Nay. and worth anything when there.’ “On which ground. I say. as well as a Divinity. than a Peasant unacquainted with botanical Physiology. on the other hand. I would bow to every Man with any sort of hat. Is not he a Temple. unmannered Peasant could no more be met with. each man were then also his neighbor’s schoolmaster. this.’ says Novalis. and is due from all men towards all men. We touch Heaven. I discern no special connection with wealth or birth: but rather that it lies in human nature itself. were your Schoolmaster at his post. It would go to the pocket of Vanity (which is your clearest phasis of the Devil. is it not to Clothes that most men do reverence: to the fine frogged broadcloth. such indiscriminate bowing serves not. or even to Cast Clothes. Nothing is holier than this high Form. therefore must we withhold it. “The gladder am I. and makes a Dignitary of? Who ever saw any Lord my-lorded in tattered blanket fastened with wooden skewer? Nevertheless. would be reformed. art not thou alive. in these times). alas. which is the essence of all Sin. but only the pure emblem and effigies of Man: I mean. rather than gracefully insists on its own rights. will per169 . there is in such worship a shade of hypocrisy. nowise to the ‘straddling animal with bandy legs’ which it holds. or with no hat whatever. or man with a shovel-hat. ‘and that temple is the Body of Man. then. wherein no devilish passion any longer lodges.

and questioned Destiny. like some Angel of Doom. of myself or of others. With awestruck heart I walk through that Monmouth Street. the Capital of England. the man John Baliol being quite gone. reign long over Scotland. who with hoarse voice. that bearded Jewish Highpriest. thick. might some skyey Messenger.Sartor Resartus haps see good to take a different course. on a Pegasus.’ Friends! trust not the heart of that man for whom Old Clothes are not venerable. as. no scornful gesture: silent and serene. “Often. in other words. and rides there. and multifarious as Spartan broth. under that ink-sea of vapor. too. in modest simplicity. on its Clothes-horse. Crimes. for I now fear no deception. neither demanding worship. and was one lone soul amid those grinding millions. and goose-speech which was the sign of these two. while I sojourned in that monstrous tuberosity of Civilized Life. The Hat still carries the physiognomy of its Head: but the vanity and the stupidity. and all the fathomless tumult of Good and Evil in ‘the Prison men call Life. with its empty Suits. and meditated. summons them from the four winds! On his head. as when it contained the Man: nay. depend at ease. Watch. or purified Apparition. or. Thus all is purged from the grossness of sense. for Hindoo Worshippers. but expressive in their silence: the past witnesses and instruments of Woe and Joy. the Waistcoat hides no evil passion. “Did not King Toomtabard. no riotous desire. Virtues. as through a Sanhedrim of stainless Ghosts. the Breeches. with reverence. John Baliol. but not to strike. and only the ‘Toom Tabard’ (Empty Gown) remaining? What still dignity dwells in a suit of Cast Clothes! How meekly it bears its honors! No haughty looks. Even as. so do I too worship the hollow cloth Garment with equal fervor. are gone. with more. may have free course when they are empty. the Pagoda is not less sacred than the God. The Coat-arm is stretched out. visiting our low Earth. black. it fronts the world. and now at last have a graceful flow. That reverence which cannot act without obstruction and perversion when the Clothes are full. nor afraid to miss it. like the 170 . hunger or thirst now dwells not in it. Silent are they. of Passions. from the carking cares and foul vices of the World.—often have I turned into their Old-Clothes Market to worship.

where. which to him was a true Delphic avenue. where. where the “Ghosts of Life” rounded strange secrets in his ear. and knows not what to worship. but with little feeling of “Devotion:” probably in part because the contemplative process is so fatally broken in upon by the brood of money-changers who nestle in that Church. with its long fluttering rows of yellow handkerchiefs. one day. as he slowly cleaves the air. all this will seem overcharged. whereon the summoned Garments come to alight. that it has left them there cast out and trodden under foot of Want. in motley vision. sounds forth his deep fateful note. there exists noth171 . We too have walked through Monmouth Street. might be in that happy middle state. beast-godhood. in stifled jarring hubbub. with its wail and jubilee. with fire and with water.Thomas Carlyle Pope. O thou philosophic Teufelsdrockh. with austerest thought. we hear the Indictment which Poverty and Vice bring against lazy Wealth. in Paper-bag Documents destined for an English work. let him in whom the flame of Devotion is ready to go out. and say whether his heart and his eyes still continue dry. Darkness and the Devil. and eyes in a fine frenzy. be a Dionysius’ Ear. pace and repace. mad loves and mad hatreds. Whereas Teufelsdrockh.—then is Monmouth Street a Mirza’s Hill.—Something we would have given to see the little philosophical figure. which leaves to the Clothes-broker no hope either of sale or of purchase. “pacing and repacing in austerest thought” that foolish Street. and with thy quick tympanum hearest the grass grow! At the same time. church-bells and gallows-ropes. ye fluttering Ghosts: he will purify you in his Purgatory. on either hand are the similitude of wings. as if through a trumpet he were proclaiming: ‘Ghosts of Life. and. farce-tragedy. new-created ye shall reappear. and supernatural Whispering-gallery. is it not strange that. come to Judgment!’ Reck not. the whole Pageant of Existence passes awfully before us. Oh.—a real triple tiara.—the Bedlam of Creation!” To most men. as it does to ourselves. the pavement of Monmouth Street. and so be allowed to linger there without molestation. and ever. If Field Lane. that listenest while others only gabble. and importune the worshipper with merely secular proposals. with its steeple-hat and loose flowing skirts. who has never worshipped. he has three Hats.

ever as the ashes of the Old are blown about. as Teufelsdrockh calculates.” that this remarkable Volume first took being. Creation and Destruction proceed together. Might we but fancy it to have been even in Monmouth Street. therefore. and of his Meditations among the Clothes-shops only the obscurest emblematic shadows? Neither. mysteriously spinning themselves. who cannot expect to live two centuries. and therefrom the young one start up by miracle. and lie as a dead cinereous heap. “In the living subject. For the rest. and thou wilt see. Little knowest thou of the burning of a WorldPhoenix. one day to be hatched into a Universe! she engage to have done “within two centuries. will be the best part of the spectacle. who fanciest that she must first burn out. while the serpent sheds its old skin. Nay. Not altogether so. this of Mankind in general:— 172 CHAPTER VII ORGANIC FILAMENTS For us. indeed.” says he. do organic filaments of the New mysteriously spin themselves: and amid the rushing and the waving of the Whirlwind element come tones of a melodious Death-song. those same organic filaments. look into the Fire-whirlwind with thy own eyes. it were a handsome bargain would . and fly heavenward. then: to poor individuals. Far otherwise! In that Fire-whirlwind.” there seems to lie but an ashy prospect. and shot forth its salient point in his soul. have we heard him more than allude to the subject. it cannot be uninteresting that we here find how early the significance of Clothes had dawned on the now so distinguished Clothes-Professor. does the Professor figure it. who happen to live while the World-Phoenix is burning herself. in conversation (for. at the bottom of our own English “ink-sea. First.Sartor Resartus ing like an authentic diary of this his sojourn in London. however. he was not a man to pester you with his Travels).” Let us actually look. and burning so slowly that. the new is already formed beneath. however. which end not but in tones of a more melodious Birth-song.—as in Chaos did the Egg of Eros. “change is wont to be gradual: thus.

minutely influence all men. Hast thou ever meditated on that word. those foolish Lies thou tellest of me in thy splenetic humor: what is all this but an inverted Sympathy? Were I a Steam-engine. but all the garniture and form of Life. and work. by which all things. suddenly covered up within the largest imaginable Glass bell. but only imagine. of Letters. not less indissolubly does generation with generation. my little Brotherkin. taking and giving. thy very Envy.—what a thing it were. and speak. as our Fathers. more or fewer. circulatest through all Space and all Time: there has a Hole fallen out in the immeasurable. verbal Messages. and primeval grandfathers. thy Thoughts fall into no friendly ear or heart. there is not a red Indian. going out from him and coming in. I say. and so generates ever new blessing or new cursing: all this you cannot see. from the 173 . “Wondrous truly are the bonds that unite us one and all. Tradition: how we inherit not Life only.Thomas Carlyle “In vain thou deniest it. Thy very Hatred. of some perhaps whimsically strutting Figure. whether by the soft binding of Love. such as provokes whimsical thoughts: ‘Wert thou. the minutest that he does. that. “If now an existing generation of men stand so woven together. and even think and feel. “thou art my Brother. whether badly or well. but have to drop unread: neither from within comes there question or response into any Post-bag. from all the four winds. or the iron chaining of Necessity.” says the Professor. which must be darned up again!’ “Such venous-arterial circulation. thy Manufacture into no purchasing hand: thou art no longer a circulating venousarterial Heart. are a blood-circulation. hunting by Lake Winnipeg. not for thyself only. can quarrel with his squaw. impinge against thy Glass walls. but the whole world must smart for it: will not the price of beaver rise? It is a mathematical fact that the casting of this pebble from my hand alters the centre of gravity of the Universe. wouldst thou take the trouble to tell lies of me? Not thou! I should grind all unheeded. but for the world! Post Letters. universal World-tissue. More than once have I said to myself. as we like to choose it. paper and other Packages. visible to the eye: but the finer nervous circulation. and the very look of his face blesses or curses whomso it lights on.

Sartor Resartus beginning. and innumerable others whom thou knowest not. Newton has learned to see what Kepler saw. above all in Books. and as the History of the World. followed by an Apostle of the Gentiles. he must mount to still higher points of vision. wide as the World itself. without which Nature were not. Polities. much more is Mankind. and a living indivisible whole. but ever completing. Generations are as the Days of toilsome Mankind: Death and Birth are the vesper and the matin bells. As palpable lifestreams in that wondrous Individual Mankind. So too the Hebrew Lawgiver is. In the business of Destruction. It is thus that the heroic heart. as this also is from time to time a necessary work. Thus all things wax. 174 . that as thou. Had there been no Moesogothic Ulfila. Beautiful it is to understand and know that a Thought did never yet die. have given it us?—Who printed thee. as preserved in Institutions. that the Wise Man stands ever encompassed. Opinions. and serviceable for the progress of this same Individual. and sewed that court-suit of thine. Faust of Mentz. Arts. that summon Mankind to sleep. and roll onwards. What the Father has made. there had been no English Shakspeare. nothing is completed. Establishments. so thou wilt transmit it to the whole Future. and there is a living. wilt thou find his subdivision into Generations. “Noteworthy also. thou findest a like sequence and perseverance: for Luther it was as yet hot enough to stand by that burning of the Pope’s Bull. the seeing eye of the first times. hast gathered it and created it from the whole Past. this unpretending Volume on the Philosophy of Clothes? Not the Herren Stillschweigen and Company. if Nature is one. the originator thereof. or a different one. for example. in due time. Simpleton! It was Tubal-cain that made thy very Tailor’s needle. truly. but Cadmus of Thebes. the Image that reflects and creates Nature. but there is also a fresh heaven-derived force in Newton. by a cloud of witnesses and brothers. the Son can make and enjoy. Churches. “Yes. but has also work of his own appointed him. among so many life-streams that are not palpable. flow on those main currents of what we call Opinion. literal Communion of Saints. and spiritually embraced. still feels and sees in us of the latest. and to rise refreshed for new advancement.

and becoming now daily more and more indubitable. among all the wondrous provinces of Teufelsdrockh’s spiritual world. who. trace eternity is that of King. Thus likewise. A Millennium. “was it written by Theologians: a King rules by divine right. concerning Titles:— “Remark. He carries in him an authority from God. Ever must the Sovereign of Mankind be fitly entitled King. thou findest it in living movement. hesitation. it is to be hoped. “how all high Titles of Honor come hitherto from Fighting.” “Well. means Ken-ning (Cunning). We subjoin another passage. and that generous conflict of 175 . and derive from it any little comfort they can. hovers with outstretched wings. Can I choose my own King? I can choose my own King Popinjay. in such a disastrous period. or. with confidence. also. but required quite other fuel. that she may soar the higher and sing the clearer. may it not be apprehended that such Fighting titles will cease to be palatable. filling Earth with her music.” The Editor will here admit that. in the third again. or man will never give it him.” says he elsewhere. having from of old been prophesied. and with spheral swan-song immolates herself in flame. and play what farce or tragedy I may with him: but he who is to be my Ruler. will become an English Rebuilder. in the second generation. the English Whig has. Konig (King). lay this to heart. or reign of Peace and Wisdom. with our English love of Ministry and Opposition.Thomas Carlyle Voltaire could not warm himself at the glimmering ashes. become an English Radical.” Let the friends of social order. anciently Konning. Your Herzog (Duke. was chosen for me in Heaven. not without surprise. there is none he walks in with such astonishment. Can-ning. Dux) is Leader of Armies. How. she sinks. I note.” says Teufelsdrockh. your Earl (Jarl) is Strong Man. and new and higher need to be devised? “The only Title wherein I. in progress faster or slower: the Phoenix soars aloft. and even pain. your Marshal cavalry Horse-shoer. Find Mankind where thou wilt. as now. Neither except in such Obedience to the Heaven-chosen is Freedom so much as conceivable. as in the Political. or which is the same thing. whose will is to be higher than my will.

much so disastrous. ‘when you have but knit up my chains into ornamental festoons. there is then a demand for lower people—to be shot!” Gladly. even slightly?—He says. or rather City both of the Dead and of the Unborn. we discern a deep. he appears to make little even of the Elective Franchise. silent. Thus. were the problem. than the Representative Machine will serve your turn? Meanwhile. heaven-born and leading heavenward. inextinguishable Radicalism. what better. all is so immeasurable. even as ye are now doing or will do. indubitable experiment. how shall we domesticate ourselves in this spectral Necropolis. where the Present seems little other than an inconsiderable Film dividing the Past and the Future? In those dim long-drawn expanses. slow-burning. as indeed it now everywhere is. mock me not with the name of Free.— and live. or at worst. such as fills us with shuddering admiration. and beyond all feats of manufacture witnessed hitherto.” Is Teufelsdrockh acquainted with the British constitution. your very radiances and straggling light-beams have a supernatural character.’”—Or what will any member of the Peace Society make of such an assertion as this: “The lower people everywhere desire War. do we emerge from those soul-confusing labyrinths of speculative Radicalism. And then with such an indifference. Not so unwisely. ghastly. under another figure: “But after all. “by universal. does he sit. at least so we interpret the following: “Satisfy yourselves. for example. is our invaluable Constitution kept warm and alive. you would say.” he says. such a prophetic peacefulness (accounting the inevitably coming as already here.Sartor Resartus Parties. rather in any other age than in his own! It is our painful duty to announce. looking into this man. what other. cannot peradventure be mechanically hatched and brought to light in that same Ballot-Box of yours. to him all one whether it be distant by centuries or only by days). therefore. whether freedom. indeed. and so vitally essential for us all. Edifice. or Steam-mechanism. To rebuild your old House from the top downwards (since you must live in it the while). or repeat. however. that. in some other discoverable or devisable Box. by which wrestle. into some176 . mind warming itself against mind in their mutual wrestle for the Public Good. It were a mighty convenience.

Painful for man is that same rebellious Independence. “Or hast thou forgotten Paris and Voltaire? How the aged.” Do our readers discern any such corner-stone. though their Divinity.” we ask. he that is the inferior of nothing. but not yet risen into perennial Reverence. still less bear rule. only in reverently bowing down before the Higher does he feel himself exalted. touching “Hero-worship. man can do almost all things. can be the superior of nothing.” be of the number? It seems of a cheerful character. True likewise that whoso cannot obey cannot be free. and will forever exist. withered man. and the loveliest of France would have laid their hair beneath his feet! All Paris was one vast Temple of Hero-worship. which is the higher and highest? “Meanwhile. yet because even he seemed the Wisest. In which fact. least of all. so that princes coveted a smile from him. for “organic filaments. has existed. may not this. nay in all ages. only not obey. yet so quaint. the equal of nothing. could drag mankind at his chariot-wheels. whereon all Polities for the remotest time may stand secure. it has gone dead. Mocker. Before no faintest revelation of the Godlike did he ever stand irreverent. may lie under it. Our readers shall look with their own eyes:— “True is it that. one knows not what. Thus is there a true religious Loyalty forever rooted in his heart. in these days. when it has become inevitable. though but a Sceptic. which is the lower. looking round. Nevertheless. so mystical. even in ours. moreover. observe with joy. only in loving companionship with his fellows does he feel safe. that Hero-worship exists. that if it slumber in him.Thomas Carlyle what clearer regions. so cunningly has Nature ordered it. and millinery Court-poet. Best. believe not that man has lost his faculty of Reverence. is looking at? He exclaims. “Or what if the character of our so troublous Era lay even in this: that man had forever cast away Fear. mayest thou discern the corner-stone of living rock. universally among Mankind. or even so much as what Teufelsdrockh. 177 . Here. that whatsoever man ought to obey. he cannot but obey. or how little. as was our hest. was of feature too apish. when the Godlike showed itself revealed in his fellow-man. it manifests itself as a more or less orthodox Hero-worship.

may find audience. hast thou not still Preaching enough? A Preaching Friar settles himself in every village. environment. for man’s salvation. wherewith we now hasten to knit up this ravelled sleeve:— “But there is no Religion?” reiterates the Professor. and dialect of this age? None 178 . what will be done in the green? If. sayest thou? The voice of Prophecy has gone dumb? This is even what I dispute: but in any case. the new had formed itself beneath it?” Perhaps also in the following. he must down and worship. but be wholly human? Know that there is in man a quite indestructible Reverence for whatsoever holds of Heaven. when Parisian life was at best but a scientific Hortus Siccus. mysteriously spinning themselves. and builds a pulpit. “Fool! I tell thee. and. Before the old skin was shed. were his knees stiffened into brass. fashion itself into shape. what is to be looked for when Life again waves leafy and bloomy. show the haughtiest featherhead. “were done in the dry tree. And knowest thou no Prophet. and dost not thou listen. some will perhaps discover in the following passage:— “There is no Church. Show the dullest clodpoll. Therefrom he preaches what most momentous doctrine is in him. which Time will assort: nay fractions even of a Liturgy could I point out. and your HeroDivinity shall have nothing apelike. and minister. Said I not. even in the vesture. such virtue could come out of it. and believe? Look well. as idolbreakers are wont to be. in the most parched season of Man’s History. These break in pieces the ancient idols. in the most parched spot of Europe.Sartor Resartus “But if such things. for copper alms and the love of God. some barefooted. there is. some almost bare-backed.” continues he. or even plausibly counterfeits such holding. Hast thou well considered all that lies in this immeasurable froth-ocean we name literature? Fragments of a genuine Church-Homiletic lie scattered there. where the true God-ordained. that a soul higher than himself is actually here. though themselves too often reprobate. and teach and preach. which he calls Newspaper. zealously enough. of a more authentic sort.” Organic filaments. bedizened with some Italian Gumflowers. mark out the sites of new Churches. thou seest everywhere a new Clergy of the Mendicant Orders. that are to follow.

and for organmusic thou wilt ever. yet not unreal. Superannuated Symbols. headed Natural Supernaturalism. till. as a sacred Miserere. one after the other. worst of all. through all meanest and highest forms of the Common. finally subdues under his feet this refractory Clothes-Philosophy. if thou have Faith. such as we have witnessed. Spake we not of a Communion of Saints. even in these rag-gathering and rag-burning days. have ever hovered round him. these also he victoriously rends asunder. and what not: yet still did he courageously pierce through. time and space. feelest well that.” of Imperial Mantles. “Cloth-webs and Cob-webs. where there is no ministering Priest. the interior celestial Holy-of-Holies lies disclosed. Neither say that thou hast now no Symbol of the Godlike. properly it is that the Philosophy of 179 . hear the Morning Stars sing together.” CHAPTER VIII NATURAL SUPERNATURALISM It is in his stupendous Section. as a boundless everlasting Psalm of Triumph. Phantasms enough he has had to struggle with. their heroic Actions also. Nay. to his rapt vision. therefore. were it but afar off. and now. to be divine? Knowest thou none such? I know him. accompanying and brother-like embracing thee. and takes victorious possession thereof. its earthly hulls and garnitures have all melted away. joinest in no Psalm-worship. and. Is not God’s Universe a Symbol of the Godlike. that the Professor first becomes a Seer. he has looked fixedly on Existence. Here.Thomas Carlyle to whom the Godlike had revealed itself. and Men’s History. unseen. “But thou as yet standest in no Temple. two quite mysterious. is not Immensity a Temple. Man’s Life again begins. is not Man’s History. and out of all times. a perpetual Evangel? Listen. out of all lands. as of old. In a word. perplexing and bewildering: but with these also he now resolutely grapples. the people perish? Be of comfort! Thou art not alone. world-embracing Phantasms. after long effort. so thou be worthy? Their heroic Sufferings rise up melodiously together to Heaven. and name him—Goethe. and by him been again prophetically revealed: in whose inspired melody.

This stupendous Section we. good friends: nay I. was full of meaning. Whom I answer by this new question: What are the Laws of Nature? To me perhaps the rising of one from the dead were no violation of these Laws. not without astonishment: On what ground shall one. after long painful meditation. that Nature. takes us safe into the promised land. and open for him an impassable Schlagbaum. come and declare that therefore he can teach Religion? To us. “‘But is it not the deepest Law of Nature that she be constant?’ cries an illuminated class: ‘Is not the Machine of the Universe fixed to move by unalterable rules?’ Probable enough. were some far deeper Law. that can make Iron swim. to grow clear. or shut Turnpike? “‘But is not a real Miracle simply a violation of the Laws of Nature?’ ask several. again. the significance of Miracles. but. might have worked a miracle. “Courage. even as the rest have all been. brought to bear on us with its Material Force. where Palingenesia. Let the reader. this last leap. in all senses. must believe that the God. now first penetrated into. by judicious selection and adjustment. and magical ‘Open sesame!’—every time I please to pay twopence. “far deeper perhaps than we imagine. truly. shall study to do ours:— “Deep has been. have found not to be unintelligible. with better right than Diogenes the First once did. the question of questions were: What specially is a Miracle? To that Dutch King of Siam. an icicle had been a miracle. do his part. turning on it what utmost force of speculative intellect is in him. of the Nineteenth Century. too. that the Universe.’ does indeed never change. of the First Century. To my Horse. whom ancient inspired men assert to be ‘without variableness or shadow of turning. may be considered as beginning. but a confirmation. as we. and by Spiritual Force. do not I work a miracle. who unhappily is still more unscientific. then!” may our Diogenes exclaim.” thus quietly begins the Professor. on the contrary.Sartor Resartus Clothes attains to Transcendentalism. such declaration were inept enough. and vial of vitriolic ether. whoso had carried with him an air-pump. which no one whom it so pleases can be prevented from calling a Machine. “Here too may some inquire. and all-illuminating. which nevertheless to our fathers. can we but clear it. nay radiant. 180 . and is. Meanwhile.

and all Herschel’s Fifteen thousand Suns per minute. at a rate and in a course. so that we can now prate of their Whereabout. and can say. of quite infinite expansion. may possibly be? “They stand written in our Works of Science. wide as is his vision.’ this. and marked in the Zodiacal Way-bill. forming the complete Statute-Book of Nature. as in the signless Inane? “System of Nature! To the wisest man. which. This stands marked therein. and inert Balls. on this our little fraction of a Planet. wherein he exhibits that certain Planets. and all Experience thereof limits itself to some few computed centuries and measured squaremiles. and quality and accident. the Trade-winds. and no more than this? Alas. is partially known to us: but who knows what deeper courses these depend on. The course of Nature’s phases. And now of you. their Why. nick-named. say you. wherein Sirius and the Pleiades.—is to me as precious as to another. their What. and Monsoons. he and the like of him have succeeded in detecting. gyrate round our worthy Sun. by greatest good fortune. that they read His ground-plan of the incomprehensible All. to see how it all went on? Have any deepest scientific individuals yet dived down to the foundations of the Universe. “Laplace’s Book on the Stars. some paltry handful of Moons. have seen some hand breadths deeper than we see into the Deep that is infinite. of its little native Creek may have become familiar: but does the Minnow understand the Ocean Tides and periodic Currents. But is this what thou namest ‘Mechanism of the Heavens. by all which the condition of its 181 . then. and gauged everything there? Did the Maker take them into His counsel. being hid from us. being left out. their How. what infinitely larger Cycle (of causes) our little Epicycle revolves on? To the Minnow every cranny and pebble. I make the old inquiry: What those same unalterable rules.Thomas Carlyle does move by the most unalterable rules. with their Satellites. and Moon’s Eclipses. had been—looked at. in the accumulated records of Man’s Experience?—Was Man with his Experience present at the Creation. not in anywise! These scientific individuals have been nowhere but where we also are. Nature remains of quite infinite depth. without bottom as without shore. too.’ and ‘System of the World.

As for your Institutes. his Monsoons and periodic Currents the mysterious Course of Providence through Æons of Æons. but their spiritual nature becomes. they strive bravely. an ever-renewed effort to transcend the sphere of blind Custom. by dexterous combination. as ministering servants. and. poetical and philosophical. and weaves air-raiment for all the Spirits of the Universe. of which the whole secret will in this manner one day evolve itself. whereby indeed these dwell with us visibly. be quite overset and reversed? Such a minnow is Man. from the first. the fewest dream. Sentences. Nay. that we do everything by Custom. some Letters in the vulgar Character. we shall not try thee. are oftenest simply such Beliefs as we have never heard questioned. his Creek this Planet Earth. that our very Axioms. of which even Prophets are happy that they can read here a line and there a line. from amid the thick-crowded. well-nigh inexhaustible Domestic-Cookery Book. “doth make dotards of us all. inextricably intertwisted hieroglyphic writing. does man. thou wilt find that Custom is the greatest of Weavers.” continues the Professor. by simple repeti182 . spread out through Solar Systems. “We speak of the Volume of Nature: and truly a Volume it is. Consider well. That Nature is more than some boundless Volume of such Recipes. pick out. and so become Transcendental? “Innumerable are the illusions and legerdemain-tricks of Custom: but of all these. to the most.Sartor Resartus little Creek is regulated. his Ocean the immeasurable All. forever hidden.—whose Author and Writer is God. and Thousands of Years. in our houses and workshops. Philosophy complains that Custom has hoodwinked us. even Believe by it. and grand descriptive Pages. perhaps the cleverest is her knack of persuading us that the Miraculous. To read it! Dost thou. in the true Sacred-writing. and therefrom put together this and the other economic Recipe. or huge. let us boast of Free-thinking as we may. It is a Volume written in celestial hieroglyphs. “Custom. and Academies of Science. and may. what is Philosophy throughout but a continual battle against Custom. so much as well know the Alphabet thereof? With its Words. of high avail in Practice. from time to time (unmiraculously enough).

or two million times? There is no reason in Nature or in Art why I should: unless. I am a mere Work-Machine. in this Phantasm Existence. In vain. which indeed are but one kind of such custom-woven. altogether infernal boiling-up of the Nether Chaotic Deep.Thomas Carlyle tion. and look through. Witchcraft. out of which. ceases to be Miraculous. as spun and woven for us from before Birth itself. shall you endeavor to strip them off. “But deepest of all illusory Appearances. an authentic Demon-Empire. as the universal canvas. at best. in our resting and reflecting hours. True. whereby all minor Illusions. for hiding Wonder. what are Nerves? Ever. or warp and woof. 183 . indeed. and Demonology. or rather we are false foolish nurslings. Seldom reflecting that still the new question comes upon us: What is Madness. guiding him to his true benefit. and yet to blind it. indeed. and Diseases of the Nerves. and money and money’s worth realized. and now rests there. because I have seen it twice. for man must work as well as wonder: and herein is Custom so far a kind nurse. his world of Wisdom has been creatively built together. which we name the Real. “Fortunatus had a wishing Hat. or two hundred. for whom the divine gift of Thought were no other than the terrestrial gift of Steam is to the Steam-engine. These. it is by this means we live. when. Was Luther’s Picture of the Devil less a Reality. space and time. through this fair-painted Vision of Creation. as on its dark foundations does a habitable flowery Earth rind. wonder-hiding Garments. “Notable enough too. as before. here as elsewhere. whether it were formed within the bodily eye. and all manner of Spectre-work. we have now named Madness.—lie all-embracing. which when he put on. you can. while here on Earth. or without it? In every the wisest Soul lies a whole world of internal Madness. Am I to view the Stupendous with stupid indifference. but rend them asunder for moments. wilt thou find the potency of Names. weave and paint themselves. to clothe our celestial me for dwelling here. But she is a fond foolish nurse. are your two grand fundamental world-enveloping Appearances. as for many other ends. which swims thereon. does Madness remain a mysterious-terrific. we prolong the same deception. a power whereby cotton might be spun.

To clap on your felt. and with mute beckonings. what a world we should have of it! Still stranger. or only past. even as all Thinkers. even as we are Here 184 . in the Wahngasse of Weissnichtwo. like a pale. then. mournfully receding Milestone. in all ages. have devoutly read it there: that Time and Space are not God. for him there was no Where. he had annihilated Space. or only future? Those mystic faculties of thine. but chiefly of this latter. already answer: already through those mystic avenues. there prophetically in the Thirty-first. but creations of God. who as yet stand hidden in the depth of that late Time! “Or thinkest thou it were impossible. but Yesterday and To-morrow both are. but all was Here. and. make Time-annihilating! Of both would I purchase. By this means had Fortunatus triumphed over Space. glance into the Eternal. that with God as it is a universal here. though as yet darkly. simply by wishing that you were Anywhere. “And seest thou therein any glimpse of immortality?— O Heaven! Is the white Tomb of our Loved One. should. Memory and Hope. straightway to be Then! This were indeed the grander: shooting at will from the Fire-Creation of the World to its Fire-Consummation. and. Were a Hatter to establish himself. the curtains of To-morrow roll up. so is it an everlasting Now. Believe what thou findest written in the sanctuaries of Man’s Soul. who died from our arms. here historically present in the First Century. conversing face to face with Paul and Seneca. Pierce through the Timeelement.Sartor Resartus and wished himself Anywhere. behold he was There.—but a pale spectral Illusion! Is the lost Friend still mysteriously Here. and communest with them. which rises in the distance. on the opposite side of the street. another Hatter establish himself. were it with my last groschen. conversing also face to face with other Pauls and Senecas. is the Future nonextant. to tell how many toilsome uncheered miles we have journeyed on alone. unimaginable? Is the Past annihilated. and make felts of this sort for all mankind. The curtains of Yesterday drop down. and had to be left behind us there. as his fellow-craftsman made Space-annihilating Hats. simply by wishing that you were Anywhen. straightway to be There! Next to clap on your other felt. thou the Earth-blinded summonest both Past and Future. and.

to fancy that the Miracle lies in miles of distance. Had we but the Time-annihilating Hat. or in pounds avoirdupois of weight. Art thou a grown baby. which Space practices on us. for the next twenty years. poor fool that he is. wherein. that I can stretch forth my hand at all. or Amphion. we are sent into this Earth to live. But that they should. seems nowise so. with thyself how their thin disguises hide from us the brightest Godeffulgences! Thus. “Still worse is it with regard to Time. just. to dance along from the Steinbruch (now a huge Troglodyte Chasm. understand it thou canst not. and not to see that the true inexplicable God-revealing Miracle lies in this. and whatever is. seems altogether fit. furthermore. could I stretch forth my hand and clutch the Sun? Yet thou seest me daily stretch forth my hand and therewith clutch many a thing. then. once for all. and unavoidable. and universal wonder-hider. for instance. built the walls of Thebes by the mere sound of his Lyre? Yet tell me. we should see ourselves in a World of Miracles. usurp such sway over pure spiritual Meditation. “That the Thought-forms.Thomas Carlyle mysteriously. then. should it unhappily seem new. were outdone. thou mayest ponder at thy leisure. to their quite undue rank of Realities: and consider. or the next twenty centuries: believe it thou must. Space and Time. were it not miraculous. and whatever will be. with God!—know of a truth that only the Time-shadows have perished. wherein all fabled or authentic Thaumaturgy. if thou wilt. Who built these walls of Weissnichtwo. This. should condition and determine our whole Practical reasonings. and wonder-hiding stupefactions. with 185 . and blind us to the wonder everywhere lying close on us. is this same lying Time. had Orpheus. and imagings or imaginings. summoning out all the sandstone rocks. Admit Space and Time to their due rank as Forms of Thought. that the real Being of whatever was. and feats of Magic. “Were it not wonderful. nay even. or are perishable. to put on for once only. conceptions. But unhappily we have not such a Hat. that I have free Force to clutch aught therewith? Innumerable other of this sort are the deceptions. is even now and forever. can seldom and scantily help himself without one. Your grand antimagician. and swing it hither and thither. and man.

succeeded in civilizing Man? Our highest Orpheus walked in Judea. and thence to the church-vaults. “Again. but without the music of some inspired Orpheus was no city ever built. and sent flying? Oh. though now with thousand-fold accompaniments. that through every star. by the divine Music of Wisdom. and divinely leads them. were it in the meanest province thereof. in past centuries. with the mind’s eye as well as with the body’s. and most through every Living Soul. But Nature. as actual and authentic as heart could wish. well-nigh a million of Ghosts were travelling the streets by his side. flowing in wild native tones. and modulates. “Sweep away the Illusion of Time. which happens in two hours. eighteen hundred years ago: his sphere-melody. still flows and sounds. though he went to Cock Lane. to the Endings. who. all his life. through every grass-blade. but could not. if thou have eyes. hides Him from the foolish. Once more I say.Sartor Resartus frightful green-mantled pools). and does it cease to be wonderful if happening in two million? Not only was Thebes built by the music of an Orpheus. and reveals Him to the wise. and tapped on coffins. to see one. which is the Time-vesture of God. Foolish Doctor! Did he never. from the near moving-cause to its far distant Mover: The stroke that came transmitted through a whole galaxy of elastic balls. did he never so much as look into Himself? The good Doctor was a Ghost. the glory of a present God still beams. compress the 186 . and. took captive the ravished souls of men. squared ashlar houses and noble streets? Was it not the still higher Orpheus. look round him into that full tide of human Life he so loved. sweep away the illusion of Time. being of a truth sphere-melody. Is that a wonder. or Orpheuses. was it less a stroke than if the last ball only had been struck. no work that man glories in ever done. could I (with the Time-annihilating Hat) transport thee direct from the Beginnings. and rich symphonies. through all our hearts. is in very deed the star-domed City of God. and shape themselves into Doric and Ionic pillars. and thy heart set flaming in the Light-sea of celestial wonder! Then sawest thou that this fair Universe. how were thy eyesight unsealed. could anything be more miraculous than an actual authentic Ghost? The English Johnson longed. glance.

take figure. and they are not. like the Song of beatified Souls? And again. force dwells in his arm and heart: but warrior and war-horse are a vision. round us. “So has it been from the beginning. so will it be to the 187 . with its howling tumult that made Night hideous. and to Eternity minutes are as years and aeons. even as perturbed Goblins must? Napoleon too. it is awful to consider that we not only carry each a future Ghost within him.—till the scent of the morning air summons us to our still Home. and his Moscow Retreats and Austerlitz Campaigns! Was it all other than the veriest Spectre-hunt. that yelled in fierce battleshouts at Issus and Arbela. a Shadow-system gathered round our me: wherein. they were not. remain behind him. That warrior on his strong war-horse. a little while. or uproar (poltern). ere thy watch ticks once. in very deed. Ghosts! These Limbs. what else are we? Are we not Spirits. as round the veriest spectre. this life-blood with its burning Passion? They are dust and shadow. whence had we them. do not we squeak and gibber (in our discordant. through some moments or years. this stormy Force. and glide bodeful. that are shaped into a body. and dreamy Night becomes awake and Day? Where now is Alexander of Macedon: does the steel Host. and warrior and war-horse sink beyond plummet’s sounding. some half-hundred have arisen in it. their very ashes are not. Stately they tread the Earth. a revealed Force. Come there not tones of Love and Faith. it is mysterious. but are. and fearful. as from celestial harp-strings. A little while ago. and feeble. Plummet’s? Fantasy herself will not follow them. screech-owlish debatings and recriminatings). and that fade away again into air and Invisibility? This is no metaphor. it cracks in twain. into an Appearance. the Divine Essence is to be revealed in the Flesh. which has now. nothing more. is Eternity.Thomas Carlyle threescore years into three minutes: what else was he. and revel in our mad Dance of the Dead. some half-hundred have vanished from it. or have they all vanished utterly. fire flashes through his eyes. it is a simple scientific fact: we start out of Nothingness. “O Heaven. flitted away?— Ghosts! There are nigh a thousand million walking the Earth openly at noontide. and are Apparitions. as if it were a firm substance: fool! the Earth is but a film.

the last Rear of the host will read traces of the earliest Van. wild-thundering train of Heaven’s Artillery. and her seas filled up. is the Philosophy of Clothes now at last opening around them? Long and adventurous has the journey been: from those outmost vulgar. Faith knows not. one madly dashed in pieces on the rocks of Strife. begin in any measure to reveal itself? 188 . and our little Life Is rounded with a sleep!’” CHAPTER IX CIRCUMSPECTIVE Here. through his wondrous Flesh-Garments. then plunge again into the Inane. in long-drawn. fire-breathing Spirit-host. ‘We are such stuff As Dreams are made of. from God and to God. arises the so momentous question: Have many British Readers actually arrived with us at the new promised country. But whence?—O Heaven whither? Sense knows not. Thus. palpable Woollen Hulls of Man. and his wondrous Social Garnitures. only that it is through Mystery to Mystery. we emerge from the Inane. and forth issuing from Cimmerian Night. in war with his fellow:—and then the Heaven-sent is recalled. like a God-created.Sartor Resartus end. in our passage: can the Earth. quick-succeeding grandeur. What Force and Fire is in each he expends: one grinding in the mill of Industry. inwards to the Garments of his very Soul’s Soul. eternal Essence of Man. his earthly Vesture falls away. Earth’s mountains are levelled. on Heaven’s mission appears. through the unknown Deep. resist Spirits which have reality and are alive? On the hardest adamant some footprint of us is stamped in. to Time and Space themselves! And now does the spiritual. haste stormfully across the astonished Earth. and of Mankind. and soon even to Sense becomes a vanished Shadow. Generation after generation takes to itself the Form of a Body. like some wild-flaming. bared of such wrappages. then. does this mysterious mankind thunder and flame. one hunter-like climbing the giddy Alpine heights of Science. Thus. which is but dead and a vision.

where that Phoenix Death-Birth of Human Society. but only his fond hope. do we at length stand safe in the far region of Poetic Creation and Palingenesia. in huge wavering outlines. nay. Shakespeare. And like this unsubstantial pageant faded. No firm arch. what is changeable divided from what is unchangeable? Does that Earth-Spirit’s speech in Faust. that many have travelled without accident. could the Editor construct. And all which it inherit. “ or that other thousand-times repeated speech of the Magician. overspanning the Impassable with paved highway. may not our own 189 . all was against us! Nevertheless. have cleared the passage. New laborers will arrive. some zigzag series of rafts floating tumultuously thereon. And weave for God the Garment thou seest Him by.— “’Tis thus at the roaring Loom of Time I ply. each according to ability. the great Globe itself. has now seen himself enabled to conclude if not complete. unheard-of Bridge. By degrees.” begin to have some meaning for us? In a word. new Bridges will be built. some primeval rudiments of Man’s Being. shall dissolve. The solemn Temples. the nature of the element. as was said. Alas. and of all Human Things. and the leaps from raft to raft were too often of a breakneck character. the darkness. which the Editor. The cloud-capt Towers. it cannot be his sober calculation. by Heaven’s blessing. as through a glass darkly. the gorgeous Palaces. Leave not a wrack behind. in spite of all? Happy few! little band of Friends! be welcome. be of courage.Thomas Carlyle Can many readers discern. provided with a discursiveness of intellect rare in our day. appears possible. the hand can stretch itself forth to work there: it is in this grand and indeed highest work of Palingenesia that ye shall labor. the eye grows accustomed to its new Whereabout. only. may not here and there one of a thousand. is seen to be inevitable? Along this most insufficient.— “And like the baseless fabric of this vision.

and all inferior Worships (Worth190 . Or. and audibly express that same. nay. the sacredness of Majesty. to speak without metaphor. of the innumerable multitude that started with us. but the Pomp and Authority of Law. and now swim weltering in the Chaos-flood. O British Reader. at least some word of encouragement be said. and through the Clothes-Screen. at our career: not a few. and there is no use in it. or what use is in it? In the way of replenishing thy purse. it leads to nothing.Sartor Resartus poor rope-and-raft Bridge. with which mode of utterance Teufelsdrockh unhappily has somewhat infected us. as now. art not thou too perhaps by this time made aware that all Symbols are properly Clothes. which a Tailor was nigh cutting into measures. even for moments. are Clothes. be mended in many a point. joyous and full of hope. and thy very blankets and breeches are Miracles. and thus not only the parchment Magna Charta. whether outwardly or in the imagination. have missed footing. Teufelsdrockh. some towards that. and stand gazing afar off. perhaps in many a literary Tea-circle wilt open thy kind lips. passable even for the halt? Meanwhile. in your passings and repassings. if through this unpromising Horn-gate. long ago has many a British Reader been.— then art thou profited beyond money’s worth. and we by means of him. and afflicted rather than instructed by the present Work? Yes. into the region of the Wonderful.— can it be hidden from the Editor that many a British Reader sits reading quite bewildered in head. whom we see no longer by our side? The most have recoiled. or leaped short. but rather the reverse. Nevertheless. and based on Wonder. thou lookest. till it grow quite firm. pressing forward with more courage. where now is the innumerable remainder. and seest and feelest that thy daily life is girt with Wonder. or otherwise aiding thy digestive faculty. as through a magical Pierre-Pertuis. for it costs thee somewhat. demanding with something like a snarl: Whereto does all this lead. and hast a thankfulness towards our Professor. have led thee into the true Land of Dreams. To these also a helping hand should be held out. that all Forms whereby Spirit manifests itself to sense. some towards this shore. in unsympathetic astonishment. Nay farther.

nay rather. lead to important revolutions. fullers.Thomas Carlyle ships) are properly a Vesture and Raiment. where so much were to be looked on. from its prophetic height looks down on all these. and consecrate. washers. creatures that live. mechanically woven and spun? But omitting all this. lurk at the bottom of all Modes. which crowd on the Clothes-Philosopher from the very threshold of his Science. as on so many weaving-shops and spinning-mills. where the Vestures which it has to fashion. as we have seen. better unfolding themselves. 191 . and the Theory of the British Constitution. is at fault. even the lowest. or bears never so remotely on that promised Volume of the Palingenesie der menschlichen Gesellschaft (Newbirth of Society).—let us but turn the reader’s attention upon two small divisions of mankind. too often by haggard hungry operatives who see no farther than their nose. Dandies and Tailors. move and have their being in Cloth: we mean. ethical. To say nothing of those pregnant considerations. symbolical. and will one day. In regard to both which small divisions it may be asserted without scruple. is without its direct value. that the public feeling. must it not also be admitted that this Science of Clothes is a high one. dyers. and Political Economy. but that innumerable inferences of a practical nature may be drawn therefrom.” which. much more all that concerns Natural Supernaturalism. unenlightened by Philosophy. and wringers. that puddle and muddle in their dark recesses. As will perhaps abundantly appear to readers of the two following Chapters. on what may be called the Habilatory Class of our fellowmen. and die that we may live. and indeed whatever has reference to the Ulterior or Transcendental portion of the Science. political. the million spinners. are. and may with infinitely deeper study on thy part yield richer fruit: that it takes scientific rank beside Codification. and distribute.—we humbly suggest that no province of Clothes-Philosophy. to make us Clothes. like moths. weavers. and even that the dictates of humanity are violated. nothing even of those “architectural ideas. who. and the Thirtynine Articles themselves are articles of wearing-apparel (for the Religious Idea)? In which case. Here too overlooking. may be regarded as Cloth-animals.—let us glance for a moment. and with the faintest light of Clothes-Philosophy.

or thing that will reflect rays of light.Sartor Resartus CHAPTER X THE DANDIACAL BODY First. would admit him to be a living object. let us consider. which a German Professor. or even failing this. a Man whose trade. in this so willing sacrifice of the Immortal to the Perishable. creative enthusiast. We called him a Poet: is not his body the (stuffed) parchment-skin whereon he writes. something (though in reverse order) of that blending and identification of Eternity with Time. Understand his mystic signifi192 . a visual object. a witness and living Martyr to the eternal worth of Clothes. that you would recognize his existence. like a generous. he lives to dress. and Clotha Virumque cano. spirit. Your silver or your gold (beyond what the niggardly Law has already secured him) he solicits not. a Sonnet to his mistress’ eyebrow? Say. touching Dandies. for all this perennial Martyrdom. what is it that the Dandy asks in return? Solely. with some scientific strictness. and even Prophecy. simply the glance of your eyes. which he that runs may read. an Epos. A Dandy is a Clothes-wearing Man. we may say. he fearlessly makes his Idea an Action. or wring his heart asunder with unutterable throes. purse and person is heroically consecrated to this one object. what a Dandy specially is. shows himself in peculiar guise to mankind. writes his enormous Volume to demonstrate. if you grant. which. will express itself outwardly. in Macaronic verses. like an instinct of genius. office and existence consists in the wearing of Clothes. of unequalled learning and acumen. a Poet of Cloth. Nay. walks forth. But. as we have seen. and Poesy. he is inspired with Cloth. to the whole world. constitutes the Prophetic character? And now. the wearing of Clothes wisely and well: so that as others dress to live. with cunning Huddersfield dyes. is there not in this life-devotedness to Cloth. that the Dandy has a Thinking-principle in him. The allimportance of Clothes. like other such Ideas. What Teufelsdrockh would call a “Divine Idea of Cloth” is born with him. and this. rather. what seems to be admissible. and some notions of Time and Space. Every faculty of his soul. has sprung up in the intellect of the Dandy without effort.

and Church after Church.—into how many strange shapes. the Professor’s keen philosophic perspicacity is somewhat marred by a certain mixture of almost owlish purblindness.” writes he. unweariedly active. and Siamese Twins. May we not well cry shame on an ungrateful world. any specimen of him preserved in spirits! Lord Herringbone may dress himself in a snuffbrown suit. and he is contented. as so often elsewhere. looking and longing and silently working there towards some new Revelation. Yet perhaps only gone to sleep: for here arises the Clothes-Philosophy to resuscitate. glance with hasty indifference. that here. the undiscerning public. ironic tendency. and the mystic significance that lies in him. ineffectual. yet in the way towards such.Thomas Carlyle cance. of Superstition and Fanaticism. The following long Extract from Professor Teufelsdrockh may set the matter. bodies itself forth. no Anatomist dissects with care: when did we see any injected Preparation of the Dandy in our Museums. or else wanders homeless over the world. 193 . do but look at him. and over the domestic wonderful wonder of wonders. the essential nature of the British Dandy. properly speaking. either lies unseen in the hearts of good men. cannot always remain hidden under laughable and lamentable hallucination. with snuff-brown shirt and shoes: it skills not. driven out of most Churches. if not in its true light. like that of Chivalry. however. “when the Religious Principle. like a disembodied soul seeking its terrestrial organization. which will waste its optic faculty on dried Crocodiles. which refuses even this poor boon. is indeed. and a scarcely concealed contempt! Him no Zoologist classes among the Mammalia. occupied with grosser wants. or else of some perverse. yet does it continue indestructible. gone. The age of Curiosity. our readers shall judge which:— “In these distracted times. or altogether miss and misinterpret it. strangely enough. passes by regardless on the other side. a live Dandy. It is to be regretted. both the one and the other! Should sound views of this Science come to prevail. does it not tentatively and errantly cast itself! The higher Enthusiasm of man’s nature is for the while without Exponent. and work blindly in the great chaotic deep: thus Sect after Sect.

or a new figure of Demon-Worship. Wherefore. which Zerdusht. distinguish themselves by a particular costume (whereof some notices were given in the earlier part of this Volume). is that of the Dandies. and looking intensely for a length of time into their own navels. and not a Religious one. also (for human Error walks in a cycle. came to discern therein the true Apocalypse of Nature. men generally without sense for the Religious Principle. Quangfoutchee. I have. so far as is yet visible. To my own surmise. who by fasting from all nourishment. one of the most notable. and reappears at intervals) a not-inconsiderable resemblance to that Superstition of the Athos Monks. and what force there is in man’s nature. display courage and perseverance. Whether it belongs to the class of Fetish-worships. speak. what little information I have been able to procure may fitly stand here. concerning which. which. is discernible enough. adapted to the new time. “For the rest. or judgment for its manifestations. not indeed in the Gnostic shape. They affect great purity and separatism. if any one chooses to name it revived Ahrimanism. certain of the English Journalists. nevertheless. of that primeval Superstition.Sartor Resartus and melts again into new metamorphosis. and closely connected with our present subject. “Chiefly is this observable in England. as the wealthiest and worst-instructed of European nations. and Heaven Unveiled. as if this were perhaps rather a Secular Sect. animated with the zeal of a new Sect. likewise. Self-worship. in their brief enigmatic notices. or of Hero-worships or Polytheisms. namely. Mahomet. and which only in the purer forms of Religion has been altogether rejected. so far as 194 . “It is true. in which such moon-calves and monstrosities are best generated. or to what other class. Among the newer Sects of that country. may in the present state of our intelligence remain undecided (schweben). offers precisely the elements (of Heat. these people. and of Darkness). it appears as if this Dandiacal Sect were but a new modification. and others. though never so enslaved. A certain touch of Manicheism. no objection. to the psychologic eye its devotional and even sacrificial character plainly enough reveals itself. strove rather to subordinate and restrain than to eradicate.

whereof the chief. there came a hitherto unfelt sensation. are held strictly secret. and have their High-priests and Highpriestesses. altogether incomplete. in the case of the Jewish Mysteries. and is named Almack’s. unsufferable. and some are canonical and others not. no power shall induce me. dreading ruin to my whole intellectual and bodily faculties. and a general breaking up of the constitution. by a particular speech (apparently some broken Lingua-franca. I was uniformly seized with not so much what I can call a drumming in my ears. And if I strove to shake this away. and supernal and infernal prodigies. as a private individual. as of Delirium Tremens. and with the zeal which beseems an Inquirer into Clothes.Thomas Carlyle possible. by some supposed to be of the Menadic sort. have also more than once scared back the Alien? Be this as it may. like those Fire-balls. which. They worship principally by night. The rites. Was there some miracle at work here. or English-French). In vain that I summoned my whole energies (mich weidlich anstrengte). as the Jewish Temple did. and keep themselves unspotted from the world. and absolutely would not yield. “Of such Sacred Books I. these they call Fashionable Novels: however. and a melting into total deliquium: till at last. and in hope of true insight. to open another Fash195 . who. do not continue for life. I reluctantly but determinedly forbore. stands in their metropolis. the Canon is not completed. must excuse the imperfection of this sketch. “They have their Temples. Jew’s-harping and scrannel-piping there. however. for which the world will not refuse me credit. and. such failure on my part. as a kind of infinite. by order of the Doctor. yet the completest I could give of a Sect too singular to be omitted. on the whole. to which the frightfullest species of Magnetic Sleep soon supervened. But wholly to no purpose: that tough faculty of reading. at the end of some short space. set to interpret and study them. and did my very utmost. procured myself some samples. “Loving my own life and senses as I do. after best efforts. not without expense. or perhaps with an Eleusinian or Cabiric character. was here for the first time foiled and set at naught. Nor are Sacred Books wanting to the Sect. a word of uncertain etymology. strive to maintain a true Nazarene deportment.

in this dilemma. which the Stillschweigen’sche Buchhandlung is in the habit of importing from England. so that. in one passage selected from the Prophecies. But luckily. I. directing itself. as proceeding from a source so authentic. whereby if not victory. at the same time. Observe also. The collar is a very important point: it should be low 196 . therewith taking leave of this matter. or Whole Duty of Man. Readers may judge of his astonishment when on such a defaced stray-sheet. therefore. Coats should have nothing of the triangle about them. and in very abridged shape lay before the German world. according to the tenets of that Sect. what indeed otherwise was not to be expected in such a fugitive fragmentary sheet. and leading Teacher and Preacher of the Sect. Which Confession or Whole Duty. ‘2. or Mythic Theogonies. that to avoid possibility of error. probably the outcast fraction of some English Periodical. indeed. Nevertheless. not without asperity. come. as is usual. comes a hand from the clouds. I shall here arrange under Seven distinct Articles. the Religious physiognomy and physiology of the Dandiacal Body. or whatever they are (for the style seems very mixed) of this Mystagogue. appears something like a Dissertation on this very subject of Fashionable Novels! It sets out. Nay. against some to me unknown individual named Pelham. is nowise laid fully open there. deliverance is held out to me. who seems to be a Mystagogue. ‘1. by way of interior wrappage: into these the Clothes-Philosopher. with a certain Mahometan reverence even for waste-paper. wrinkles behind should be carefully avoided. the true secret.Sartor Resartus ionable Novel. whereby I have endeavored to profit. such as they name Magazine. quote literally from the Original:— ARTICLES OF FAITH. scattered lights do from time to time sparkle out. chiefly from a Secular point of view. various waste printed-sheets (Maculatur-blatter). as far as may be. disdains not to cast his eye. Round one of those Book-packages. I find what appears to be a Confession of Faith. where curious knowledge will sometimes hover.

The members appear to be designated by a considerable diversity of names. under certain restrictions. it remains to me in the same state of obscurity as the Dandiacal. While in Ireland. is their grand parent hive. The good sense of a gentleman is nowhere more finely developed than in his rings. as mentioned. The trousers must be exceedingly tight across the hips. Ribbonmen. Peep-of-Day Boys. doubtless. chiefly in scorn by those of other communions. of Ireland. any individual communicant is named Stook of Duds (that is. and slightly rolled. or the Stook of Duds Sect. Cottiers. ‘6. the others are only subsidiary species. such as Bogtrotters. Babes of the Wood. “In strange contrast with this Dandiacal Body stands another British Sect. originally. and. in allusion. to wear white waistcoats. probably enough. Rockites.’ “All which Propositions I. seems to be the primary and generic name. however. also. at most. Shock of Rags). according to their various places of establishment: in England they are generally called the Drudge Sect. they go by a perplexing multiplicity of designations. propagated offsets from the parent stem. which. I find them entitled Hallanshakers. but known also in the main Island. It is permitted to mankind. where its chief seat still is. ‘7. again. or slight varieties. whereto. content myself with modestly but peremptorily and irrevocably denying. to their professional Costume. or. and indeed everywhere rapidly spreading. Poor-Slaves: which last. the White Negroes. ‘4. In Scotland. whose minute 197 . unphilosophically enough.Thomas Carlyle behind. No license of fashion can allow a man of delicate taste to adopt the posterial luxuriance of a Hottentot. As this Sect has hitherto emitted no Canonical Books. There is safety in a swallow-tail. as I understand. ‘3. ‘5. Redshanks. for the present. which has published Books that the unassisted human faculties are inadequate to read. the Ragged-Beggar Sect.

indeed. they are pledged. what seems indubitable. they appear to imitate the Dandiacal Sect in their grand principle of wearing a peculiar Costume. lappets and irregular wings. with what feelings and opinions he looks forward on the Future. they sometimes invert the hat. it were extremely difficult to specify. Something Monastic there appears to be in their Constitution: we find them bound by the two Monastic Vows. round on the Present. and be it by any solemn Nazarene ordination or not. of hempen or even of straw rope. or with only a loose. that by the imperfect organ of Language it did not seem describable. and Man. the interior essence and spirit of their Superstition. “The name Poor-Slaves seems to indicate a Slavonic. thrums and skewers. they observe with great strictness. Polish. especially the former. and often wear it by way of sandals. is rigidly enforced among them. Their raiment consists of innumerable skirts. for this reason. round the loins. That the third Monastic Vow. it is said. I find no ground to conjecture. of all cloths and of all colors.Sartor Resartus subdivisions. irrevocably consecrated thereto. however. which vows. Enough for us to understand. even before birth. in the former case. To straw rope. which rather displays a Teutonic or Druidical character. with what view is unknown. through the labyrinthic intricacies of which their bodies are introduced by some unknown process. picture themselves to the mind of an Irish Poor-Slave. and wear it brim uppermost. It is fastened together by a multiplex combination of buttons. nay. or valve crown. howsoever denominated or outwardly diversified. to which frequently is added a girdle of leather. or Russian origin: not so. One might fancy them 198 . and fundamental characteristics pervade and animate the whole Body. of Chastity. whose doctrines. “The precise speculative tenets of this Brotherhood: how the Universe. back on the Past. of Poverty and Obedience. and Man’s Life. practices. and shades of difference. hinged. like a university-cap. they seem partial. without crown. “Furthermore. that the original Sect is that of the PoorSlaves. In head-dress they affect a certain freedom: hats with partial brim. Of which Irish Poor-Slave Costume no description will indeed be found in the present Volume. it were here loss of time to dwell on. as I have understood it.

a perfect liquid fire. which is the mildest of liquors. the victual Potatoes-and-Point not appearing. Thereby shall my German readers now behold an Irish PoorSlave. and use Salted Herrings: other animal food they abstain from. and Potheen. where they find such. they have also their observances. This latter I have tasted. like all followers of Nature-Worship. with an almost epigrammatic counterpoise of taste. which is the fiercest.Thomas Carlyle worshippers of Hertha. often even breaking their glass windows. though such is not stated expressly. in the so precious waste-paper sheet above 199 . on the other hand. and generally without condiment or relish of any kind. on the whole. they are liable to outbreakings of an enthusiasm rising to ferocity. though disguised with acrid oils.—indeed. and then with comparative indifference. cooked by fire alone. All Poor-Slaves are Rhizophagous (or Root-eaters). For drink. as well as the English Blue-Ruin. if not in wicker idols. the most pungent substance known to me. such animals as die a natural death. Potheen is said to be an indispensable requisite. or else. analogous fluids used by the Sect in those countries: it evidently contains some form of alcohol. who presents himself under the to me unmeaning title of The late John Bernard. in the highest state of concentration. a few are Ichthyophagous. into the meaning of which I have vainly inquired. in any European Cookery-Book whatever. In all their Religious Solemnities. and stuffing them up with pieces of raiment. yet in sod cottages. except indeed. the inmates whereof. Moreover. Like the Druids. and is. seldom looking up towards the Heavenly Luminaries. of perhaps common veracity. or other opaque substances. and the Scotch Whiskey. as it were with their own eyes. with perhaps some strange inverted fragment of a Brahminical feeling. or the Earth: for they dig and affectionately work continually in her bosom. and burn men. offers the following sketch of a domestic establishment. Again. they use. Milk. and even see him at meat. appear to have been of that Faith. “In respect of diet. meditate and manipulate the substances derived from her. “An Irish Traveller. save an unknown condiment named Point. shut up in private Oratories. at least not with specific accuracy of description. till the fit obscurity is restored. Their universal sustenance is the root named Potato. they live in dark dwellings. and largely consumed.

“But now. two Benches. the children on each side. had the appetite of ravens. which was scooped out in the middle. the mother at the bottom. therefore. of the Poor-Slave. Two fulllength Mirrors are placed. violet-colored curtains. and a Potheen Noggin. eleven in number. to receive the contents of their Pot of Potatoes. and the space below was divided by a hurdle into two Apartments. of a large oaken Board. I quote from the original: Poor-Slave Household. of great personal strength. painted by that same Dandiacal Mystagogue. Of their Philosophical or Religious tenets or observances. Several Bottles of Perfumes. On entering the house we discovered the family. like a trough. “‘A Dressing-room splendidly furnished. “First. upon which the inmates slept. secondly. and mouth from ear to ear. who appears likewise to have been a species of Innkeeper. There was a Loft above (attainable by a ladder). as he says. of the Dandiacal Household. no notice or hint. I have found some corresponding picture of a Dandiacal Household. broad-backed. stand upon a smaller table of mother-of-pearl: opposite to these are 200 .Sartor Resartus mentioned. or Theogonist: this also. bread. the other for themselves and guests. the one for their cow and pig. which supports the luxuries of the Toilet. black-browed. and a bowl of Milk stood on the table: all the luxuries of meat and beer. chairs and ottomans of the same hue. Little holes were cut at equal distances to contain Salt. truly. two Chairs.’ The Poor-Slave himself our Traveller found. knives and dishes were dispensed with. one on each side of a table. and his young ones. two oaken Tables. “‘The furniture of this Caravansera consisted of a large iron Pot. in which. His Wife was a sun-browned but well-featured woman. by way of counterpart and contrast. bare and chubby. arranged in a peculiar fashion. the world shall look into. at dinner: the father sitting at the top. that often-mentioned Mystagogue and inspired Penman himself has his abode:— Dandiacal Household.

A Wardrobe of Buhl is on the left. To the eye of the political Seer. Fronting the wardrobe a door ajar gives some slight glimpse of a Bath-room. These two principles of Dandiacal Self-worship or Demon-worship. Shoes of a singularly small size monopolize the lower shelves. being partly open. with the host of Dandyizing Christians. and Poor-Slavish or Drudgical Earth-worship. what strangest effects would follow therefrom! Dandyism as yet affects to look down on Drudgism: but perhaps the hour of trial. are hourly increasing. If. each recruiting itself from the intermediate ranks. and which up. be he Christian or Infidel Pagan. or at best only co-operate by means of partial secret affiliations. and work unweariedly in the secret depths of English national Existence.Thomas Carlyle placed the appurtenances of Lavation richly wrought in frosted silver. the Poor-Slaves or Drudges. but it boasts of great hereditary resources.—Enter the Author. and is strong by union. or whatever that same Drudgism may be. have as yet no rallying-point. Those Dandiacal Manicheans. they extend through the entire structure of Society. uncommunicating masses. their mutual relation. and agitate that ever-vexed country. do as yet indeed manifest themselves under distant and nowise considerable shapes: nevertheless. “In numbers. ‘obsequiously preceded by a French Valet. indeed.’ our Theogonist in person. it would seem. will form one body: the Drudges. whereas the Drudges. is far from consoling. is by nature no proselytizing Sect. pregnant with the elements of discord and hostility. gathering round them whosoever is Drudgical. when it will be practically seen which ought to look down. is not so distant. divide the more unsettled portion of the British People. discover a profusion of Clothes.’ “Such are the two Sects which. striving to separate and isolate it into two contradictory. Folding-doors in the background. there were to arise a Communion of Drudges. again. The Dandiacal. in white silk Jacket and cambric Apron. and even individual strength. the doors of which. in their roots and subterranean ramifications. at this moment. “To me it seems probable that the two Sects will one day part England between them. split into parties. till there be none left to enlist on either side. as there is already a Communion of Saints. sweeping up likewise all manner of 201 .

one attracts hourly towards it and appropriates all the Positive Electricity of the nation (namely. Dandyism the Positive. truly. a mere film of Land between them. no longer healthfully Neutral. is cut into two isolated portions of Positive and Negative (of Money and of Hunger). and thenceforth there are no eclipses of the Moon. enough of likenings and similitudes. it is hard to say whether Teufelsdrockh or ourselves sin the more. enough.—Or better still. We have often blamed him for a habit of wire-drawing and over-refining.Sartor Resartus Utilitarians. in excess of which. which is equally potent. and so forth. I might liken”— Oh. I might call them two boundless. which man’s art might cover in. with batteries of opposite quality. till now there is but a footplank. their diameter is daily widening: they are hollow Cones that boil up from the infinite Deep. and Noah’s Deluge is out-deluged! “Or better. yet mark them. till the entire nation is in an electric state: till your whole vital Electricity. and indeed unexampled Electric Machines (turned by the ‘Machinery of Society’). Radicals. foolishly bubbling wells. is 202 . and then—What then? The Earth is but shivered into impalpable smoke by that Doom’s thunder-peal. from of old we have been familiar with his tendency to Mysticism and Religiosity. refractory Pot-wallopers. Drudgism the Negative. the Money thereof). Hitherto you see only partial transient sparkles and sputters: but wait a little. whereby in everything he was still scenting out Religion: but never perhaps did these amaurosis-suffusions so cloud and distort his otherwise most piercing vision. the other is equally busy with the Negative (that is to say the Hunger). I could liken Dandyism and Drudgism to two bottomless boiling Whirlpools that had broken out on opposite quarters of the firm land: as yet they appear only disquieted. and stands there bottled up in two World-Batteries! The stirring of a child’s finger brings the two together. daily the empire of the two Buchan-Bullers extending. into their general mass. over which your firm land is but a thin crust or rind! Thus daily is the intermediate land crumbling in. this too is washed away: and then—we have the true Hell of Waters. the Sun misses one of his Planets in Space. will form another. as in this of the Dandiacal Body! Or was there something of intended satire.

we introduce a Tailor’s-Melancholy. we see through it. more opprobrious than any Leprosy. but with a Teufelsdrockh there ever hovers some shade of doubt. and perhaps through him. In the mean while. has our first Practical Inference from the Clothes-Philosophy. On this latter our opinion happily quite coincides with that of Teufelsdrockh himself. but fractional Parts of a Man. “must elapse. here might we indeed pause and wonder. Call any one a Schneider (Cutter. and fixed itself down into a widespreading rooted error. been sufficiently drawn. “Upwards of a century. and still the bleeding fight of Freedom be fought. equivalent to defying his perpetual fellest enmity? The epithet schneidermassig (tailor-like) betokens an otherwise unapproachable degree of pusillanimity. and thrones be hurled on altars like Pelion on Ossa. and this last wound of suffering Humanity be closed. that which respects Dandies. and fable I know not what of his generating it by living on Cabbage. if satire were actually intended. and indeed delirious condition of Society. we willingly give place. hoodwinked. not Men. as expressed in the concluding page of his Volume. and the Moloch of Iniquity have his victims. the case is little better.” says he. Why should 203 CHAPTER XI TAILORS Thus. and we come now to the second. and the Michael of Justice his martyrs. “If aught in the history of the world’s blindness could surprise us. before Tailors can be admitted to their true prerogatives of manhood. Tailor).Thomas Carlyle the Professor and Seer not quite the blinkard he affects to be? Of an ordinary mortal we should have decisively answered in the affirmative. however. whoso is noblest perishing in the van. concerning Tailors. that Tailors are a distinct species in Physiology. is it not. There are not wanting men who will answer: Does your Professor take us for simpletons? His irony has overshot itself. into our Books of Medicine. to whom. in his own way:— . Let him speak his own last words. in our dislocated. therefore. An idea has gone abroad.

dimly anticipated. gentlemen both!’ Did not the same virago boast that she had a Cavalry Regiment. but something of a Creator or Divinity. namely. and clothed not only with Wool but with Dignity and a Mystic Dominion. need I put the question to any Physiologist. “Nevertheless. of Tailors on Mares? Thus everywhere is the falsehood taken for granted. of the Tailor alone?—What too are all Poets and moral Teachers. I would ask. and a whole co-operating Mankind. from nakedness and dismemberment. looking away from individual cases. or he that snatches? For. and how a Man is by the Tailor new-created into a Nobleman. on the hard 204 . under his Clothes. whereof neither horse nor man could be injured. with the keen forecast of genius. brought them down to us. as has here been often irrefragably evinced. her Regiment. the Tailor has bones and viscera. the creation. and the doctrine. will stand revealed in clear light: that the Tailor is not only a Man. Of Franklin it was said. who but the Poet first made Gods for men.—is not the fair fabric of Society itself. into nations. with his Schneider mit dem Panier? Why of Shakspeare. he that lends. we are organized into Polities. that ‘he snatched the Thunder from Heaven and the Sceptre from Kings:’ but which is greater. and acted on as an indisputable fact. whether it is disputable or not? Seems it not at least presumable. but a species of Metaphorical Tailors? Touching which high Guild the greatest living Guild-brother has triumphantly asked us: ‘Nay if thou wilt have it. addressed them with a ‘Good morning. receiving a deputation of Eighteen Tailors. the world will have approximated towards a higher Truth. or kind of Leather-Tailor). which Swift. and raised us up to them?’ “And this is he. and elsewhere? Does it not stand on record that the English Queen Elizabeth. and almost preternatural Inquiries. is not to perish utterly. in his Taming of the Shrew. whom sitting downcast. with all its royal mantles and pontifical stoles. and other muscles than the sartorius? Which function of manhood is the Tailor not conjectured to perform? Can he not arrest for debt? Is he not in most countries a taxpaying animal? “To no reader of this Volume can it be doubtful which conviction is mine. that. whereby.Sartor Resartus I speak of Hans Sachs (himself a Shoemaker. Nay if the fruit of these long vigils.

“As I stood in the Mosque of St. and the Scissors become forever venerable. It was in this high moment. Sophia.Thomas Carlyle basis of his Shopboard. With astonishment the world will recognize that the Tailor is its Hierophant and Hierarch. I thought within myself: How many other Unholies has your covering Art made holy. yet sighing towards deliverance. Too long hast thou sat there. has his appeal been altogether in vain. for a world that scoffed at thee. Was not this the martyr prison-speech of a Tailor sighing indeed in bonds. sewing and embroidering that rich Cloth. the thick gloom of Ignorance is rolling asunder. but a Square and Cube.’ and stood painted the Effigies of a Pair of Leather Breeches. as it were.” 205 . wearing thy ankle-joints to horn. as the ninth part of a man! Look up. and prophetically appealing to a better day? A day of justice. after long retardations. and of which the Primary and simpler Portion may here find its conclusion. besides this Arabian Whinstone! “Still more touching was it when. which the Sultan sends yearly for the Caaba of Mecca. thou much-injured one. when the soul. “Neither. sic itur ad astra. and prophetic bodings of a noble better time. perhaps. drawing down Heaven’s richest blessings. and shed asunder. or Catholic Fakir. and between the knees these memorable words. and it will be Day. on crossed legs. and looked upon these Four-and-Twenty Tailors. turning the corner of a lane. rent. like some sacred Anchorite. or even its God. doing penance. when the worth of Breeches would be revealed to man. I came upon a Signpost. Mankind will repay with interest their long-accumulated debt: the Anchorite that was scoffed at will be worshipped. whereon stood written that such and such a one was ‘Breeches-Maker to his Majesty. Be of hope! Already streaks of blue peer through our clouds. that I first conceived this Work on Clothes: the greatest I can ever hope to do. occupied. which has already. in the Scottish Town of Edinburgh. is open to inspiring influence. look up with the kindling eye of hope. so large a section of my Life. may I now say. the Fraction will become not an Integer only. and will yet occupy. the world treats with contumely.

in which. from the enormous. more like a Scottish Haggis. or in Art itself. perhaps a thankless enterprise. What a result. should this piebald. so much the shorter? Of Professor Teufelsdrockh. and of which we can now wash our hands not altogether without satisfaction. some morsel of spiritual nourishment have been added to the scanty ration of our beloved British world. Thus has not the Editor himself. amorphous Plum-pudding. by vigilance. had appointed him. yet censure were loss of time. where lost rings and diamond-necklaces are nowise the sole conquests? Regret is unavoidable. gratitude. Nevertheless. lost much of his own English purity? Even as the smaller whirlpool is sucked into the larger. though in barbaric wise. to pick out the choicest Plums. which Herr Teufelsdrockh had kneaded for his fellow-mortals. A laborious. become general among our Literary men! As it might so easily do. not to say of thinking. in this instance. why should he murmur? Was not this a Task which Destiny. and. Who will not regret that talents. and disapproval. it seems impossible to take leave without a mingled feeling of astonishment. entangled. have been so much devoted to a rummaging among lumber-rooms. which having now done with. however. so has the lesser mind. like it. To cure him of his mad humors British Criticism would essay in vain: enough for her if she can. If hereby. wayward as our Professor shows himself. in any case. been forced to become portion of the greater. hyper-metaphorical style of writing. something of hope has occasionally cheered us. he sees his general Day’s-work so much the lighter. and present them separately on a cover of our own. see all things figuratively: which habit time and assiduous effort will be needed to eradicate. which might have profited in the higher walks of Philosophy. what nobler recompense could the Editor desire? If it prove otherwise. 206 . working over Teufelsdrockh’s German. prevent the spreading of such among ourselves. and made to whirl along with it. nay too often to a scraping in kennels.Sartor Resartus CHAPTER XII FAREWELL So have we endeavored.

he at last desperately dashes his sponge. or hollow Commercial League. be the Heavens ever praised. is this saying of his: “How were Friendship possible? In mutual devotedness to the Good and True: otherwise impossible. is that of a man who had said to Cant. to try whether it will paint Foam? With all his stillness. we will hope and believe. except as Armed Neutrality. muchsuffering. capable of being and of doing what ten thousand singly would fail in. at all times. Here thou canst not be. moreover. to his face. much-inflicting man. any soldier. It is. there is that in the wild. where so much bountifully given by Nature had in Practice failed and misgone. uncertain whether the basis of this so enigmatic nature were really Stoicism and Despair.” And now in conjunction therewith consider 207 . Begone. Seems it not conceivable that. How often already have we paused. His attitude. in all places. by all weapons. and to Dilettantism. that Teufelsdrockh. against the canvas. Still the question returns on us: How could a man occasionally of keen insight. or Love and Hope only seared into the figure of these! Remarkable. is sufficient for himself. that perhaps Necessity as well as Choice was concerned in it.Thomas Carlyle is there any reader that can part with him in declared enmity? Let us confess. A man. united in Love. yet were ten men. and now stood minded to wage the same. resolve to emit them in a shape bordering so closely on the absurd? Which question he were wiser than the present Editor who should satisfactorily answer. full of all colors. nay perhaps. not without keen sense of propriety. Our conjecture has sometimes been. was mysteriously consecrated from birth to that warfare. and to Truth. in a Life like our Professor’s. and ever without success. shall be welcome. is not without some touch of the universal feeling. who had real Thoughts to communicate. In such a cause. Be thou in place of all to me: a man who had manfully defied the “Time-Prince. Literature also would never rightly prosper: that striving with his characteristic vehemence to paint this and the other Picture. which almost attaches us. a wish to proselytize. were he but a Polack Scythe-man. Infinite is the help man can yield to man. there were perhaps in Teufelsdrockh desperation enough for this. A second conjecture we hazard with even less warranty.” or Devil. Hannibal-like.

” much repeated in praise of the Paper-bag Documents. to us for the first time. wherein much is said about the “Population-Institute. and call it theirs: well at ease are the Sleepers for whom Existence is a shallow Dream. is no longer visibly present at Weissnichtwo. sensuality. what of the Night? Professor Teufelsdrockh. be it known.Sartor Resartus this other: “It is the Night of the World. that it might flame far and wide through the Night. and. “It had been remarked that while the agitating news of 208 . nay could we but so much as elucidate for ourselves by what mystery he went away! But. might as good as altogether subvert it. who knows what mad Hopes this man may harbor? Meanwhile there is one fact to be stated here. the profoundest ignorance: in the Wahngasse all lies swept. since even an authentic Spectre is not visible to Two?—In which case were this Enormous Clothes-Volume properly an enormous Pitchpan. sealed up. with what affectionate and hitherto fruitless solicitude Weissnichtwo regards the disappearance of her Sage. and many a disconsolately wandering spirit be guided thither to a Brother’s bosom!—We say as before. and two immeasurable Phantoms. Wohlgeboren will have seen from the Public Prints. and the Sun and the Stars of Heaven are as if blotted out for a season. old Lieschen experiences or affects the profoundest deafness. hypocrisy and atheism. and. alas. stalk abroad over the Earth. which our Teufelsdrockh in his lone watch-tower had kindled.” But what of the awe-struck Wakeful who find it a Reality? Should not these unite. that while the Beacon-fire blazed its brightest. but again to all appearance lost in space! Some time ago. indeed. Might but the united voice of Germany prevail on him to return. silent. the Watchman had quitted it. lastly. the Hofrath Heuschrecke was pleased to favor us with another copious Epistle. the Privy Council itself can hitherto elicit no answer. the strangest occurrence communicated. in the following paragraph:— “Ew. which harmonizes ill with such conjecture. with all his malign Indifference. and still long till it be Day: we wander amid the glimmer of smoking ruins. the hieroglyphic nature of which our Hofrath still seems not to have surmised. that no pilgrim could now ask him: Watchman. with the Ghoul. Namely. were Teufelsdrockh made like other men.

who vanishes. something thereof might pass into the Rath (Council) itself. and the whole Gans was one vast cackle of laughter. as in Berlin. our Sage sat mute. at the Gans or elsewhere. 209 . perhaps through one humble individual. too like an Ignis Fatuus. he was seen for the last time! “Has this invaluable man. Wohlgeboren knows. and confront them? Reason we have. any syllable except once these three: Es geht an (It is beginning). been spirited away by certain of their emissaries. long-forgotten Truth you already see them make a false application. for a whole week. Otherwise. and so contribute to the country’s deliverance. at least of a negative sort. Nor did there want Evilwishers. On the fifth night following. or did he go forth voluntarily to their head-quarters to confer with them. leaving the dark still darker. is thought to be reposited. to believe the Lost still living. For example. where much.— “To neither of these two incidents can I attribute our loss: yet still comes there the shadow of a suspicion out of Paris and its Politics. lamentation and astonishment. of which high.’ Since then. so obnoxious to most of the hostile Sects that convulse our Era. that Man is still Man. and dinned every ear in Weissnichtwo. threatened by a Sedition of the Tailors. the serenity of our Philosopher was indescribable: nay. or perhaps mere desperate Alarmists. one day. our widowed heart also whispers that ere long he will himself give a sign. there passed at least one Letter with its Answer between the Messieurs Bazard-Enfantin and our Professor himself. and at the end of the third evening said merely: ‘Here also are men who have discovered.” Thus far the Hofrath. as Ew. who asserted that the closing Chapter of the Clothes-Volume was to blame. to have spoken. be opened by Authority. as has been ascertained by examination of the Post-Director. not without amazement.Thomas Carlyle those Parisian Three Days flew from mouth to month. The Tailors are now entirely pacificated. when the SaintSimonian Society transmitted its Propositions hither. of what tenor can now only be conjectured. Herr Teufelsdrockh was not known. Shortly after. perhaps the Palingenesie itself. was the public tranquillity here. indeed. In this appalling crisis. as is his wont. his archives must.

and indicate so much. have we not existed together. Well does he know. safe-moored in some stillest obscurity. that to innumerable British readers likewise. where substance has melted into shadow. who namest thyself Yorke and Oliver. which solves or suppresses all problems. Teufelsdrockh. or reduced to an even. not to lie always still. this is a satisfying consummation. and with thy vivacities and genialities. travelled some months of our Life-journey in partial sight of one another. ought not he to thank the Upper Powers? To one and all of you. with outstretched 210 arms and open heart. makest such strange work. that innumerable British readers consider him. can the present Editor. if human testimony be worth aught. unromantic tenor. farewell. in the course of Eternity. with an ambrosial joy as of over-weariness falling into sleep. will wave a kind farewell. then. but as an uneasy interruption to their ways of thought and digestion. lay down his pen. however. is actually in London! Here. perhaps the better part thereof were only beginning? We stand in a region of conjectures. not without a certain irritancy and even spoken invective. May Time. he. as for other mercies. now amounting almost to certainty. and odor of palled punch. long as thou canst. with thy all too Irish mirth and madness.Sartor Resartus So that Teufelsdrockh’s public History were not done. Thou too. fare-well! Have we not. during these current months. For which. nay. O irritated readers. and one cannot be distinguished from the other. though in a state of quarrel? . miraculous Entity. is that. throw glad light on this also! Our own private conjecture.

” some straggle of real documents. of 1868.Thomas Carlyle APPENDIX This questionable little Book was undoubtedly written among the mountain solitudes. for seven years more. which. and be content to struggle out.—and had at last to clip itself in pieces.) TESTIMONIES OF AUTHORS.—”Allow me to say that such a writer requires only a little more tact to produce a popular as well as an able work. there was slightingly prefixed. HIGHEST CLASS. you may rely upon it. (Author’s Note. bit by bit. and an accomplished German scholar: I now enclose you his opinion. is. which. Directly on receiving your permission. in 1831. but. could not. considerable fancy and knowledge: but whether or not it would take with the public seems doubtful. is a just one. which an American. under the title. To the first English Edition. BOOKSELLER’S TASTER. I. and even to myself till I make study. and I have too high an opinion of your good 211 . if not insoluble. now that I find it again. and reminds one of the German Baron who took to leaping on tables and answered that he was learning to be lively. to certain idly curious readers.—” The Author of Teufelsdrockh is a person of talent. his wit is frequently heavy. it would have suited better as an essay or article than as a volume. to a gentleman in the highest class of men of letters. owing to impediments natural and accidental. his work displays here and there some felicity of thought and expression. be reprinted as it stood. What its real history and chronology are. appear as a Volume in England. Whereby now. sets the matter into clear light and sequence:—and shall here. in some courageous Magazine that offered. 1838. the insignificant but at last irritating question. or two American had now opened the way for. For a jeu d’esprit of that kind it is too long. The Author has no great tact. for removal of idle stumblingblocks and nugatory guessings from the path of every reader. Is the work a translation?” Bookseller to Editor. “Testimonies of Authors. I sent your MS. Taster to Bookseller. considerably involved in haze.

“After a careful survey of the whole ground. with passages marked by thought and striking poetic vigor.— in short. which the supposed Editor relates with so much gravity. II. and of which we have given a brief abstract. III. “Sartor Resartus is what old Dennis used to call ‘a heap of clotted nonsense. by beginning at the tail. which feeling is its Baphometic baptism: the citadel of its whole kingdom it has thus gained by assault. are a mere figment of the brain. our belief is that no such persons as Professors Teufelsdrockh or Counsellor Heuschrecke ever existed. and write so as to make himself generally intelligible? We quote by way of curiosity a sentence from the Sartor Resartus. a hum.. that the ‘present Editor’ is the only person who has ever written upon the Philosophy of Clothes. &c. 1st April.. will doubtless by degrees be conquered and pacificated. and that the Sartor Resartus is the only treatise that has yet appeared upon that subject. that the six Paperbags. for it is equally intelligible either way: indeed. that the whole account of the origin of the work before us.’ Here is a”. in plain English. outwards from which the remaining dominions. 17th September. not indeed without hard battering.’ mixed however. NORTH—AMERICAN REVIEWER. we think the reader will stand the fairest chance of getting at its meaning: ‘The fire-baptized soul. here feels its own freedom. But what does the writer mean by ‘Baphometic fire-baptism’? Why cannot he lay aside his pedantry. (penes nos). “Without troubling our readers at any great length with our reasons for entertaining these suspicions.. “_Fraser’s Magazine_ exhibits the usual brilliancy. . and also the” &c. 1834.— Sun Newspaper. here and there. long so scathed and thunder-riven. is. and so working up to the head. with their China-ink inscriptions and multifarious contents. 1831. which may be read either backwards or forwards. we may re212 .Sartor Resartus sense to” &c. and will keep inexpugnable..—Ms. CRITIC OF THE SUN. London.

The whole German press. we would respectfully inquire of the ‘present Editor’ upon what part of the map of Germany we are to look for the city of Weissnichtwo—’Know-not-where’—at which place the work is supposed to have been printed. how happens it that the only notice we have of the fact is contained in a few numbers of a monthly Magazine published at London! How happens it that no intelligence about the matter has come out directly to this country? We pique ourselves here in New England upon knowing at least as much of what is going on in the literary way in the old Dutch Mother-land as our brethren of the fast-anchored Isle. and that of Hinterschlag. as the traveller in that country knows too well to his cost. Again.Thomas Carlyle mark. where he had his education. Nobody-knows-where. the village of Entepfuhl—’Duck-pond’— where the supposed Author of the work is said to have passed his youth. but we have no recollection of any such place. maps of the whole. We suspect that the city of Know-notwhere might be called. Again. that the absence of all other information on the subject. is itself a fact of a most significant character. except what is contained in the work. but any particular village denominated Duck-pond is to us altogether terra incognita. If the Clothes-Philosophy and its author are making so great a sensation throughout Germany as is pretended. at different times and for various purposes. —Silence and Company. It has been our fortune to visit several portions of the German territory. close-meditated volume. Duckponds enough there undoubtedly are in almost every village in Germany. Who can refrain from a smile at the yoking together of such a pair of appellatives as Diogenes Teufelsdrockh? The supposed bearer of this strange title is represented as admitting. and to examine pretty carefully. and the Author to have resided. with at least as much propriety. but thus far we have no tidings whatever of the ‘extensive close-printed. and is to be found in the kingdom of Nowhere.’ which forms the subject of this pretended commentary. in his pretended autobiogra213 . The names of the personages are not less singular than those of the places. seems to be under the control of Stillschweigen and Co. as well as the particular one where the work purports to have been printed. are equally foreign to our geography.

Sartor Resartus phy. far beyond the period 214 .’ but had nowhere been able to find ‘the name Teufelsdrockh. and through all manner of Subscribers’-lists. their Origin and Influence. or dress. a Professor of Things in General. as we have remarked. and so forth. is the title of the supposed German treatise of Professor Teufelsdrockh and the rather odd name of Sartor Resartus—the Tailor Patched—which the present Editor has affixed to his pretended commentary. For ourselves. without intending to adopt a too rigid standard of morals. a university of Nobody-knows-where. but we are not sure that we can exercise the same indulgence in regard to the attempt. which seems to be made to mislead the public as to the substance of the work before us. advanced as we unfortunately are in the journey of life. and we doubt very much whether any Christian parent would think of condemning a son to carry through life the burden of so unpleasant a title. seems to look the same way. and other Name-catalogues. it seems to be in reality a treatise upon the great science of Things in General. except as appended to his own person. But though there is a good deal of remark throughout the work in a half-serious. to be condemned with too much severity. “In short. is supposed to have professed at the university of Nobody-knows-where. and ought not.’ We can readily believe this. however. and its pretended German original. and so of the rest. that ‘he had searched to no purpose through all the Heralds’ books in and without the German empire. Fictions of this kind are. to be upon the subject of Clothes. our private opinion is. has about as much foundation in truth as the late entertaining account of Sir John Herschel’s discoveries in the moon. looks much more like a piece of fancy-work than a ‘fair business transaction. Clothes. That of Counsellor Heuschrecke—’Grasshopper’— though not offensive. we own that we doubt a little the propriety of offering to the public a treatise on Things in General. Both purport. a Counsellor Grasshopper. perhaps. as we have seen.’ The same may be said of Blumine—’Flower-Goddess’—the heroine of the fable. under the name and in the form of an Essay on Dress. which Teufelsdrockh. a Flower-Goddess Blumine. Now. that the whole story of a correspondence with Germany. not uncommon. Militia-rolls. half-comic style upon dress.

”— North-American Review. we think. they will—to use the mildest term—not be in very good humor. vigor. or the cut of their corsets. we have no hesitation in saying. and we cannot. of richness. therefore. from the tenor of which we should be disposed to conclude. October. But this is probably not the case with the mass of readers. it is true. Whether his object in this piece of supercherie be merely pecuniary profit. they have carried home the work in triumph. like the poet. by all the motives which habitually operate most strongly upon their feelings. may be a mere result of a great familiarity with German literature. that the real subject of the work is to us more attractive than the ostensible one. In the latter part of the work. should have found their way to England. is the style. 89. If the last improvements in legislation. An author who treats it appeals. which we have made in this country. the author. tending to prove that it is what it purports to be. look upon it as in itself decisive. This quality in the style. 215 . the subject of dress is one of intense and paramount importance. he devotes a separate chapter to this class of persons. and meet with nothing better than a dissertation on Things in General. but very strongly tinged throughout with the peculiar idiom of the German language. a commentary on a real German treatise. after opening their purses for this purpose. which constitutes everywhere the very great majority. or whether he takes a malicious pleasure in quizzing the Dandies. “The only thing about the work. however. that he would consider any mode of divesting them of their property very much in the nature of a spoiling of the Egyptians. would stand some chance of being Lynched. to buy his book. expecting to find in it some particular instruction in regard to the tying of their neckcloths. still less as outweighing so much evidence of an opposite character. When. to the young men end maddens—virginibus puerisque—and calls upon them. not destitute. which is a sort of Babylonish dialect. To the younger portion of the community. we shall not undertake to say.Thomas Carlyle when dress is practically a matter of interest. and at times a sort of singular felicity of expression. No. 1835.

as there is no need. and what work of imagination can hope to please all! But we will venture to remark that the distaste excited by these peculiarities in some readers is greatest at first. . The philanthropy and the purity of moral sentiment. and discovers an insight into the manifold wants and tendencies of human nature. of the hour—in which we live. not only by frequent bursts of pure splendor. it may chance to draw others to listen to his wisdom. Arts. They will not undertake. The Author makes ample amends for the occasional eccentricity of his genius. and is soon forgotten. by the expressed desire of many persons. no book has been published for many years. to that degree that they will not hear what he has to say. LONDON. or which discovers an equal mastery over all the riches of the language. under the conviction that they contain in themselves the assurance of a longer date. We believe. but by the wit and sense which never fail him. and Social Life. written in a more sincere style of idiomatic English.”—Preface to Sartor Resartus: Boston. “The Editors have no expectation that this little Work will have a sudden and general popularity.Sartor Resartus IV. 216 superficial. “The Editors have been induced. which is very rare among our popular authors. It is his humor to advance the gravest speculations upon the gravest topics in a quaint and burlesque style. 30th June. and that the foreign dress and aspect of the Work are quite *Fraser’s (London) Magazine. NEW ENGLAND EDITORS. 1835. and cover a genuine Saxon heart. a Criticism upon the Spirit of the Age—we had almost said. will find their way to the heart of every lover of virtue. 1837. Politics. “But what will chiefly commend the Book to the discerning reader is the manifest design of the work. Under all his gayety the Writer has an earnest meaning. 1833-34. Literature. which is. exhibiting in the most just and novel light the present aspects of Religion. 1838. Sunt. to justify the gay costume in which the Author delights to dress his thoughts. or the German idioms with which he has sportively sprinkled his pages. to collect the following sheets out of the ephemeral pamphlets* in which they first appeared. Fuerunt Vel Fuere. which inspire the work. If his masquerade offend any of his audience.

To return to the Electronics Classics Series.hn.htm To return to the Thomas Carlyle page.hn. go to http://www. go to http://www.htm .psu.edu/ faculty/jmanis/carlyle.psu.edu/ faculty/jmanis/jimspdf.

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